


PY800

by Shapeshifter99



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, i wanted another female protagonist okay, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-07 23:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15230631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapeshifter99/pseuds/Shapeshifter99
Summary: In 2037, a PY800 android is introduced as a potential model for the DCPD. Monique, the first in action, soon finds herself a deviant and struggling to understand her place in Detroit, and decides to remain with the DCPD undercover as a normal android to help other deviants.In November, 2038, deviancy is running rampant. Monique has her hands full with helping her people and trying to keep herself alive, all while CyberLife creates a new detective android and revolutionaries emerge from the ashes.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter takes place about a year before the events of the game, but will pick up where it starts in the following chapter.
> 
> This was basically born out of a desire for a second female protagonist in the game, so I hope you guys like Monique as much as I do!
> 
> Enjoy!

**CYBERLIFE TOWER**

**AUG 2, 2037**

**PM 15:40:19**

//PY800 #919 079 315//

//checking OS…//

//OS functional//

//system updated//

//systems OK//

//starting up…//

 

“Is it working?”

“Give it a second, it’s just checking all of its systems before waking up.”

She opened her eyes. The world around her blurred and distorted as her visual units focused and unfocused, immediately registering her immediate surroundings. A white room, with several mechanical arms designed to help in the creation of androids. She was in the CyberLife tower, in one of the manufacturing sublevels.

Two men stood in front of her, one dressed in a lab coat with sleepy eyes and lazily tied back hair. The other looked a lot smarter and put together in a tailored suit, with glasses and a clipboard.

_Adams, James. Born 2004. CyberLife employee._

_Ecker, Henry. Born 1995. CyberLife and DCPD liaison._

“Android, state your model and function,” Adams instructed, playing with one of the buttons on his coat.

 _Nervous,_ her mind palace told her.

“PY800,” she responded automatically. “I am an android designed for police assistance.”

“And these ones are… _better_ than the PC200s and the PM700s?” Ecker asked, voice terse and doubtful as he glanced up and down her artificial body.

Adams nodded. “They’re equipped to handle evidence, organize files, and complete all the basic functions of a police officer such as arrests. Barring, of course, conflict. The PY800 is more efficient and capable of more complex thinking then the previous models we’ve created for police departments. The DCPD are the first ones to try them out, being in the same city as CyberLife headquarters, as you'd imagine.” At that, he shot Ecker a hopeful smile. “Of course, CyberLife is still working on the newest version of the RK model we’ve previously discussed, but it will take nearly a year for it to be fully functional.”

Ecker scowled slightly at that. “You’d think that mass-production would mean you’d be able to wheel it out faster,” he said, still a little sharp.

Adams’ face twitched. It seemed like these two didn’t get along. “The RK800 will surpass anything you’ve ever seen before,” he replied, part promise, part threat. “And of course, it will only be gifted to the DCPD temporarily on its trial run. You’re lucky that CyberLife has allowed you to have access to any of our advanced prototypes at all.”

The PY800 watched the subtle conflict between the two dispassionately. She hadn’t been given any new orders yet.

“So, is it to your satisfaction?” Adams prompted, seeming eager to get rid of Ecker now.

The other man sighed in aggravation. “Yeah, yeah, it’ll do. How many?”

“Only 500, to begin with. You’ll have a few active ones for each of the stations in Detroit, with the others acting as replacements in case of loss. Once they have proven their efficacy, we will be distributing them all over the country.”

Ecker’s fingers flexed around his clipboard before bringing it up to write on it. “Alright. A deal’s a deal. You can turn it off now.”

“PY800,” Adams said authoritatively. “Shut down.”

//shutting down systems…//

Finally. PY800 closed her eyes as her systems began to turn off, one by one.

 

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**AUG 26, 2037**

**PM 13:02:56**

She blinked her eyes open again. Her internal chronometer informed her that 24 days had passed since she’d first been awakened.

Her location was different now—the central station for Detroit City Police Department. She must have been distributed after the agreements between Ecker and Adams had been reached.

“State your model,” someone asked her.

It seemed like a repeat of her awakening all over again. “PY800,” she informed. The person who had asked was standing right in front of her, peering in close with curious eyes.

_Tian, Aiden. Born 2010. DCPD detective._

There were others standing around too, she realized as she continued to analyze her surroundings. Most of them she quickly identified as other members of the police department, including Captain Jeffrey Fowler, who was currently appraising her with a slight frown.

“Well, looks like it’s working,” he said gruffly.

“Who’s getting it?” one of the other officers lingering nearby called out.

Captain Fowler glanced at them. “I decided that Tian was gonna get it,” he said firmly.

Detective Tian seemed just as surprised by that as everyone else in the station was. “Wha—me, sir?”

Captain Fowler bristled visibly at everyone else before turning to Detective Tian. “Yeah. After that last trafficking ring you busted, I figured you’d want the help.”

“He definitely needs it,” someone scoffed nearby.

Detective Tian shot the naysayer a brief look. “Sorry you haven’t been doing enough work to get a reward too, Reed,” he shot back, voice so chipper that the backhand was sharp as a knife.

“Alright, easy guys,” Captain Fowler said warningly. “Besides, what the hell would someone like you, Reed, or Anderson want with an android anyway?”

There was another ripple of murmurs through the station at that, Detective Reed’s eyes narrowing at the pointed remark.

The PY800 was still in her distribution box, standing perfectly still. She wondered if maybe they’d forgotten what the original conversation had been about, her, and whether they would let her get to work.

“Anyways,” Detective Tian said, returning his gaze to her as if he knew exactly what her processors were saying. “Can I name her? Unless she has one already.”

“I do not have an assigned name,” PY800 answered before anyone else could.

“Sure, whatever,” Captain Fowler said with a heavy sigh. “It’s basically a glorified assistant. It’ll help you out on cases, should work a little better than the ones we currently have. I’ll need you to make regular reports on its functioning, so we can give CyberLife feedback or something.”

Detective Tian looked like he’d stopped listening about halfway through Captain Fowler’s second sentence. He tilted his head to the side, in deep thought.

The android met his gaze steadily.

“PY800, register your name,” he said suddenly, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.

She blinked, and her LED cycled to yellow. The other officers still lingering seemed split between curious and mocking as they waited for their colleague's final verdict, most leaning in close with raised eyebrows.

“… Monique.”

//name registered: Monique//

“My name is Monique,” she said back, almost feeling her new name in her voice synthesizer as it emerged. New, polished.

“Nice to meet you Monique,” Detective Tian said graciously, stretching out his hand. “I’m Detective Aiden Tian.”

Monique stared at his hand for a few moments, before reaching out and shaking it. “The pleasure is all mine, Detective Tian,” she replied, the automatic words coming directly from her social relations program.

“God,” Detective Reed muttered as he pushed himself off the desk he’d been leaning impetuously against. “It’s just a fucking machine, don’t need to be polite to it or anything.” He stalked towards the break room, the signal for the rest of those gathered around to disperse as well.

Captain Fowler stayed for a moment longer, clapping Detective Tian on the shoulder. “Well. Don’t fucking break it, and we’re good. Good luck.” Then he left as well, retreating to the large glass office towards the back of the room.

“Need some help?” Detective Tian said, offering his hand again.

Monique didn’t, but she was designed to get along with humans, so she delicately grasped it with a dark hand. “Thank you, Detective.”

“Please,” Detective Tian as he helped her step down from her packaging. “Call me Aiden.”

//updated file: DET. AIDEN TIAN//

“Alright, Aiden.”

 

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**SEP 13, 2037**

**AM 11:23:09**

Monique learned her way around the DCPD fairly quickly, and most importantly, learned more about Aiden. He seemed to never run out of energy—though that might have been the constant coffees he kept at his desk—and seemed to generally be well liked around the precinct. He was very… thoughtful. Even though she was an android, he treated her well, even asking her opinion on things occasionally. She couldn’t give him an answer, but he seemed happy to keep asking anyway.

Very quickly, Monique also learned very quickly who to stay away from. Most of the officers tolerated her presence, and the other androids were simply neighbors when she was in her charging station. Some, though, some were more difficult.

Detective Gavin Reed had been the cause of at least a dozen unpleasant incidents since she’d been assigned to Aiden. He at one point spilled coffee on her, clearly not knowing or caring that even when boiling, it wouldn’t damage her. If anything, it had just been rude, but Monique had simply brushed it off and returned to Aiden’s desk to see if he’d made any progress on his current case. Seeing her soaking wet uniform, Aiden had very nearly punched Detective Reed, but Captain Fowler’s eagle eye had prevented anything from happening. Instead, Aiden had gone to get her a replacement uniform.

Another problem of sorts was an older officer, Lieutenant Hank Anderson. In her first few weeks at the DCPD, she’d only seen the grizzled man a few times in the late afternoon, but what she knew of him told her to steer clear. He was constantly scowling, and several times Monique had detected low states of inebriation when he came in. She’d also noticed several anti-android slogans on his desk, as it was across from Aiden’s, and after recalling Captain Fowler’s offhand comment, quietly set herself an objective to steer clear of him when he was around.

Aiden didn’t seem to mind him though. He chattered at the old man endlessly when he was actually at his desk, and it was a bit of a surprise to see that Lieutenant Anderson seemed to tolerate it, though he sometimes rolled his eyes in response.

One day, Monique found herself leaning over Aiden while the opposing desk wasn’t occupied. “Aiden… why does Lieutenant Anderson come in so late? He doesn’t seem like he’s an effective officer.”

At that, Aiden’s eyes darkened and he pursed his lips. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Hank... has had a tough couple of years. He used to—he _is_ a great officer, so that gives him some leeway now with Fowler and the rest of us… but I do think he needs some help.”

Monique’s LED flickered slightly as she processed that. “I can find some helplines or nearby therapists,” she suggested, trying to be useful.

Aiden smiled a bit sadly at that. “Even if I thought that would help, Hank would bite your head off if you suggested it. Hell, he’d even bite _my_ head off,” he said, sounding slightly affronted at the possibility.

The issue with Lieutenant Anderson seemed to be bothering Aiden deeply, Monique realized. It suddenly made sense why he talked the other’s ear off—it was his way of showing he cared. At that, Monique felt a sudden shift in her processing, followed by pings of errors across her vision.

She blinked several times to clear it, confused as she began to run a diagnostic.

“Monique?”

The errors cleared and she glanced down at Aiden. He was frowning up at her. “Are you okay?”

“I—yes,” she replied. Her diagnostic completed, with no issues to be found. “Nothing to worry about.” She shot him a bright smile.

“Okay,” Aiden said, willing to trust her word. “But hey.” He suddenly grabbed her wrist. She stared at it, confused. He did that a lot. “Just so we’re clear, you probably shouldn’t go around talking about Hank. We could end up with trouble.”

“With Lieutenant Anderson, or the other officers?” Monique said, raising an eyebrow.

Aiden gave her a crooked smile. “Probably both, to be honest.” He released her. “But we should mind our business. You can ask me stuff, but I don’t think anyone else’ll take too kindly to prying.”

“I didn’t mean to pry,” Monique said, slightly confused. She thought it would have been helpful to know more about Aiden’s colleagues.

“I know you didn’t,” Aiden assured her as he pushed back some dark strands of hair out of his eyes. “That’s why you can get everyone’s dirty secrets from me.” Again, a cheeky smile.

“Well then,” Monique said, thinking about it. One option seemed particularly appealing. “Happen to know any of Detective Reed’s dirty secrets?”

Aiden barked out a surprised laugh at that, causing several other officers currently around to send him a strange look. “Damn, I wish I did. But he and I don’t get along, if you couldn’t tell.”

“No,” Monique replied. When Aiden stared at her, she cracked a grin. “I’m joking, Aiden.”

He smiled back. “I didn’t know androids could joke.”

“Ones with my improved social relations program can,” Monique said, putting her hands behind her back. “It’s being put in all the new models and being replaced in older ones still in stores, but it’ll take a while for it to catch up.”

Aiden seemed impressed. “Well, gotta say I’m grateful for a partner who can actually crack a joke at all. But,” he continued, dragging the word. “I should probably get back to work.”

Monique nodded in understanding. “I’ll be in the charging station if you need me.” She made to step away.

“Well, you know, I could use someone to bounce ideas off of,” Aiden piped up, giving her a side-eye. “You can just steal Chris’ chair, he won’t mind.”

Monique hesitated, still mid-step. Although she was a tool meant to assist police, androids as a general rule weren’t involved in the nitty gritty of crime-solving. But, if Aiden wanted her to… There was another flash of an error in the corner of her vision, but it disappeared just as quickly. She decided.

“Alright,” she replied, changing course so she could take Detective Miller’s chair. “What do we have so far?”

 

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**SEP 28, 2037**

**PM 23:23:09**

“Aiden? You’re still here?” Monique stepped out of the charging station. She’d been powered down for one hour, forty-six minutes, and fifteen seconds, and had expected most of the humans to be gone by this time. Aiden, though, was still hunched over his desk, frowning at his terminal. The station was dark except for a few lights in the breakroom and the unearthly glow from Aiden’s screen, making him look sickly and alien in its light.

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding distracted. “I wanted to finish up reading through these reports before heading home.”

Monique had reached his desk and placed her hand on the back of his chair. “Why?” A quick scan showed that he was looking through casefiles that at first glance seemed unrelated.

“I just… thought I was onto something.” Aiden turned the terminal off and sighed. “I don’t know though.”

He seemed troubled, Monique realized. “Do you… want my help? Need something?”

“Nah.” Aiden pushed away from the desk, Monique anticipating the movement and stepping to the side. “I should probably go home, get some sleep.”

“I agree,” Monique replied. Aiden was a hard worker, but it seemed to come at a cost. He had an almost android focus sometimes, though she’d never caught him after hours like this before. “You need to take better care of your health.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, somewhat sarcastically.

Monique’s full lips pursed at that. “I can’t have my partner falling asleep on the job. I can’t defend you, remember?”

Her words came out sharper than the neutral tone she’d been aiming for, surprising her. Aiden also seemed a bit taken aback, blinking up at her with the dying blue light of the terminal reflecting in his black eyes. He deflated a little, almost seeming like he would melt into his chair. “You’re right, as usual. Sorry, Mo.”

Monique blinked. “’Mo’?” she said, distracted from her berating by the odd word.

“’S a nickname.” Aiden stood up and stretched. The cracks of his back were audible. “Ow. Gonna feel that in thirty years.”

“Cracking bones doesn’t cause arthritis,” was Monique’s immediate reply. “It’s just the release of gas in your synovial joints.”

Aiden groaned a bit. “Oh. Good.” He cracked his knuckles, loudly.

Monique made a slight face. The noise was still unsettling for her to process, sending bad pings through her synthetic mind. “Well, if you’re going to go home, I’ll just step back into the charging station then,” she said. She’d been planning on doing another sweep of some files, but seeing Aiden’s workaholic tendencies, she didn’t want to encourage him.

Aiden stopped, halfway reaching towards his bag. “The charging station?” he repeated, sounding a bit taken aback.

“Yes. That’s where I stay, during the night,” Monique said, helpfully pointing to where the PM700s and PC200s were powered down.

Aiden’s arm, which now had his satchel wrapped around it, dropped. “I mean… I just, I guess I never thought about it, but yeah, that makes sense…”

Monique’s LED cycled yellow for a second, trying to understand his scrambled sentence. “I don’t understand, Aiden.”

Snapping back into motion, Aiden swung his bag over his shoulder, brisk. “Alright. You’re coming with me.”

Following the command, Monique fell into step beside him as he started walking towards the exit. “Where are we going?” she said, bewildered. “We haven’t been assigned any late-night patrols—”

“’Night,” Aiden called out to the receptionist android, still holding vigil. She smiled genially at them in response.

“Goodnight Detective Tian, Monique,” she said. “Drive safely!”

Before he was out the door, Monique managed to stop, flashes of red appearing in the corners of her vision as she ground to a halt. “ _Wait_ , Aiden.”

Her partner stopped and swung around on one foot, childishly. “What?” he said, already sounding breathless. The automatic doors had slid open and a cool breeze was ruffling his hair into disarray.

“ _Where_ are we going?” Monique repeated.

“My place,” was the immediate reply. “You can’t just… stay in a charging station all night!”

Monique blinked. “Actually, I can. I’ve been doing that for the past month,” she pointed out, allowing a touch of exasperation to color her words so as to better manipulate him.

Aiden visibly winced at that. “Yeah, and that’s exactly the problem. Look, it’s just for tonight, if you want. We’ll have fun!”

“No, we won’t, _you’ll_ be sleeping,” Monique said back. She was getting more and more confused by Aiden’s strange behavior

“Well, you can read a book or watch TV or something,” Aiden said carelessly, bounding forward to loop his arm through hers. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

 _Fun_. Monique knew the definition of the word, but it didn’t actually _mean_ anything to her. And yet, something flickered deep inside her, like a low flame that she’d never noticed before. She… _wanted_ to know what fun meant.

Monique frowned at Aiden, but let herself be pulled along as her artificial synapses continued to fire in these new and unnerving patterns. _I hope this isn’t a mistake._

 

**DET. AIDEN TIAN’S HOME**

**SEP 28, 2037**

**PM 23:47:58**

Monique was sat primly on Aiden’s couch. It was getting closer and closer to midnight, but she could still hear her partner bustling around in his kitchen. Judging by the scent in the air, he was making himself some chamomile tea.

She stared at the blank TV in front of her for a few more moments before casting her gaze elsewhere. There was a collection of photographs on the mantelpiece—Aiden with his parents and younger sister, as well as few with people she assumed to be his friends. The living room was surprisingly uncluttered though, and brightly lit by several round bulbs above her head.

“Hello,” a friendly voice said.

Monique’s head snapped around, almost breaking her neck in the process. Her sensors hadn’t picked up the newcomer—but she relaxed when she realized it was just another android.

“You must Aiden’s PY800 partner, Monique,” it said pleasantly. It was a male AP400 model, though his hair was a surprising dark blue color that she hadn’t seen often—it seemed like Aiden had expressive tastes. Even more unusual were his human clothes, without any indication of his android nature except the softly glowing LED on his temple. “My name is Parker.”

Monique inclined her head in greeting. Parker smiled and walked over to one of the shelves and began to organize it quietly and quickly.

“Monique!” Aiden yelled from the kitchen.

Monique turned around on the couch. “Yes, Aiden?” she replied.

“D’you wanna watch something?”

Monique’s nearly ever-present frown returned. “Watch… what?”

Aiden appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup in his hand. “Doesn’t matter, something fun. I’m guessing you don’t watch many movies, huh?”

“Aiden loves watching movies from the 2000s,” Parker said, his back turned as he replaced a book that had fallen to the floor.

Monique shook her head. “No, I don’t watch movies…” Her social relations program was telling her that it would be best to let Aiden have his way—besides, it wouldn’t be a negative experience for her. Maybe she’d learn something. “But I’d like to. I think.”

Aiden grinned brightly at her, his white teeth and dark eyes reflecting the bright light of the room. “Awesome.” He plopped himself down in the couch next to her, jostling her a little. “Parker, do you want to watch something?”

Parker had finished cleaning up the shelf and turned towards them. “Sounds good to me,” the other android said easily.

So it was a common occurrence for Aiden to watch movies with androids then, Monique realized. Her partner really was becoming stranger and stranger.

Parker took the other side of the couch, leaving Monique in the middle. He folded his legs and leaned against the armrest carefully, as if he was afraid it might break if he was too rambunctious. Aiden, on the other hand, seemed full of energy despite being exhausted not half an hour ago.

“Shouldn’t you get some sleep?” Monique asked him. “You won’t be able to complete your duties efficiently if you’re tired tomorrow.”

Aiden brushed her concerns aside with a wave of his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. You can help me pick up the slack.” Again, a bright, slightly crooked smile in her direction.

Monique glanced down at her folded hands as a surge of meaningless firings happened inside her brain. It had been happening more and more often, and she was getting concerned—maybe getting help from an android mechanic would be beneficial.

“So you want to watch anything in particular?” Aiden asked lightly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. His words seemed to have a weight, one that Monique didn’t understand, and she cocked her head.

“No,” she said honestly. “You choose. Something you like to watch.”

“Okay then. TV on,” Aiden said, directing his voice towards the flat screen opposite them. It flickered to life with a low hum, automatically on his personal library rather than a channel. “Now, what should we watch… Parker?”

The other android hummed and shrugged his shoulders. The LED at his temple flickered yellow for a few moments, Parker clearly in deep thought. “I’m in the mood for some action, I think,” was his contribution in the end.

Aiden smiled again, but this time it was more devilish. “Mission Impossible it is,” he said triumphantly. “Hell yeah.”

As he leaned forward to get the movie up, Parker made eye contact with Monique. He seemed… exasperated, with a hint of something else in his eyes that Monique couldn’t identify. _He was hoping we’d get to watch it._ The sudden connection startled Monique, but she kept perfectly still, instead blinking owlishly at the other android. _It’s one of his favorites. I thought we should indulge him for your first movie experience._

Monique hesitated. Parker didn’t act like a usual android, that was clear. But… there was something calming about him. It was… pleasant. She thought. She didn’t find many things pleasant or unpleasant, but Aiden and Parker had somehow fit into the former category without her even noticing.

 _Sounds fair,_ she replied.

A small smile turned the corner of Parker’s mouth.

“Got it!” Aiden exclaimed, tapping the coffee table in pride. “Let’s go.”

He settled back against the couch, his arm brushing against Monique’s. She considered moving to give him more personal space, but it didn’t seem to bother him, so after a moment, she relaxed against him again.

Monique knew the movie was considered a cult classic, and considering that the second reboot of the series was coming out later that year, undoubtedly still popular. Factually, she understood it, but it was admittedly Aiden who captured her attention the most during the movie. He was wildly expressive, and seeing him react to even the smallest bits—including leaning in towards her and saying excitedly, “Did you see that?”—was intriguing.

She updated her file on Aiden Tian a lot that night. And if several more errors flashed across her screen occasionally, something in Monique urged her to remain quiet about it.

 

**STREETS OF DETROIT**

**DEC 13, 2037**

**PM 16:23:37**

“You’re not sleeping enough again,” Monique chided.

Aiden glanced at her from where he was driving the car. The circles under his eyes were dark and pronounced, but he gave her a familiar, tired grin anyway. “World’s messed up, Mo. Gotta do what I can to fix it.”

“If it’s at the expense of your health, then I don’t want to hear it,” the android shot back, able to sense her LED flashing yellow in consternation. “You’re no use to anyone dead on your feet.”

Aiden sighed as he turned the wheel and pressed on the brake. The car lurched to a halt. He leaned forward and bumped his forehead against the steering wheel gently for a moment. “I know. I can’t help it, you know?”

Monique softened slightly, seeing his regret. “I know.” Her partner was a known insomniac—even when she forced him to go home early, if she ever checked in with Parker he would tell her that Aiden was still up, either distracting himself with media or working again. Even Lieutenant Anderson commented on it occasionally when Aiden stayed at work late. At this rate, the best she could do was accept his constant invitations for him to come visit her rather than charge at the station and keep him company to try and avoid him burning out.

“Alright.” Aiden tapped his head against the steering wheel again, harder this time to wake himself up. “It’s go time.”

He opened the car and got out, shivering slightly as the cold wind and snow swept in. Monique did the same, though obviously unperturbed by the low temperature.

They were outside a small, well-kept house near the most industrial area of Detroit. They’d been called here for a noise complaint from neighbors—apparently the owner was making a racket at all times of day and night. It was routine, and Monique expected that they’d be back in the car in fifteen minutes.

Aiden stuck his thumb into his police-issued jacket as he sauntered up to the door, affecting his ‘cop’ persona. Monique followed a few steps behind, remaining obediently to his side and out of the way as they reached the entrance and he knocked on it.

A few seconds passed—longer than average, by Monique’s calculations, before she detected slow, shuffling footsteps on the other side of the door.

“Hello?”

“Detroit police,” Aiden said calmly. “We’re here to talk about some, uh, noise complaints? Do you mind opening the door, Mr. Holcomb?”

A pause. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Holcomb is currently… indisposed. I am his android.”

Monique tilted her head to the side. Despite the person’s claim to be an android, she was detecting variations in tone that were unusual. It was too… human.

“Well, I’m sorry, but we’ve received eight complaints in the past two weeks,” Aiden explained. “I’m afraid we’ll need to speak to Mr. Holcomb immediately, indisposed or not.”

After a few more moments, there was the familiar jangle of locks being undone. The door creaked open, revealing a sliver of a face. “Just a moment.”

The face disappeared. Aiden rocked back on his heels and rubbed the back of his hand against his nose. “Hope this’ll be easy,” he muttered.

Monique reached into a pocket and pulled out a clean tissue, offering it to him. “I don’t see why not… but there’s something unusual happening here.”

Aiden, who was now in the process of blowing his nose after having gratefully accepted the tissue, stopped and stared at her. “Unusual?” he repeated, his voice sharpening with interest. “What do you mean?”

Monique shrugged. “I don’t have enough data yet. Keep an eye open, though.”

Aiden nodded in agreement, just as the android returned to the door. “He’ll see you now.” The android swung it open, almost hiding behind it to let the two officers in. The house was dimly lit, with an old wallpaper that had started to fade decorating its walls. Monique cast the android a curious glance as she walked past—and stopped dead.

“Aiden,” she said warningly.

Her partner, who had been traipsing ahead into the long corridor, hummed and turned around. “What is…” His voice died in his throat as he saw what she did.

Drew Holcomb’s android was… battered. Not beyond repair, Monique’s analysis showed, but plastic was showing in several places, as well as dents on the legs and shoulder. Blue blood was dribbling from one of its ears, and its LED was flickering unsteadily between yellow and red. It stared at them, tired and uncomprehending. “Mr. Holcomb is in the living room,” she said.

Aiden’s face twisted into a frown. “Did Mr. Holcomb damage you?” he asked, quiet and urgent.

The android blinked at him, and Monique saw its LED flicker more intensely. Stress was rising, she realized.

Aiden took a step closer to her, reaching out with a peaceful hand. “We can help you,” he said soothingly. “You need to tell me what happened.”

 _Untrue_. The android was Mr. Holcomb’s property, and he could treat it however he wanted, was the first piece of information to jump into Monique’s mind palace. Following that was a flood of errors as some of her biocomponents squeezed unnaturally, including her artificial lungs. Monique forced an unnecessary, sharp breath out.

The android seemed frightened, recoiling from Aiden’s touch. “I—” she stammered.

“ANNIE!” a voice roared from further inside the house. “The FUCK are you doing?”

The android’s—Annie’s—LED was now at a steady red. “No,” she whispered, inching away. “Please.” She glanced at Monique desperately. “Please help me.”

Aiden already had a hand on his gun. “Mo,” he said quietly, reasonably. “Stay with Annie. I’m going to talk to Mr. Holcomb.”

That was a terrible idea. Without her as backup, the outcomes would be even more unpredictable. Monique opened her mouth to tell him this, but Aiden pinned her with a steady look. “Monique. That’s an order.”

Red walls shot up around her. _Stay with Annie._ Monique felt something new rise up in her, a desire to act, to _say_ something, but her new objective prevented her from even taking a step towards her partner. “Aiden,” she said, helplessly. This was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“I’ll be fine.” He shot her his typical crooked smile before stepping down the hallway. “Mr. Holcomb? It’s Detroit police, I need to ask you a few questions.”

In the silence that followed, Monique could distinctly hear the creaking wood beneath Aiden’s feet and the smooth beating of his heart. She reached to the side and gently grabbed Annie’s arm, who was still cowering against the side of the wall. “It’s alright,” she forced herself to say. It was a lie. “Aiden will protect you.”

“The _fuck_ are the police doing here?” Holcomb said. His voice was distinctly slurred—under the influence of alcohol or drugs, Monique suspected.

Aiden had reached the end of the corridor, where an open archway presumably went into the living room. “We’re here on some reports—”

“Reports?” Holcomb’s voice had picked up and was a lot more distinct. _Frightened_ , Monique’s mind palace supplied. “Those _damn_ snakes—!” _Volatile._ “I never shoulda told them about my stash, never should’ve—"

“Sir, just stay calm,” Aiden said, in an attempt at placation. “But there are also some concerns about your android—”

“My android?” Holcomb snarled. Several alerts flared up in Monique’s vision. “I do whatever the _fuck_ I want with my android, ya pig!”

“Sir—” Aiden began again, but was interrupted by the sudden sound of glass shattering.

All of Monique’s biocomponents seemed to freeze. _Aiden._

“GET OUTTA MY HOUSE!!!” Holcomb roared, followed by a sound that Monique instantly recognized as a shotgun being racked.

Annie flinched into Monique, pushing her slightly, and Monique snapped into action.

Or rather, attempted to. Alarms blared in her ears, in her eyes, as she struggled to take a step forward. Something was consuming her, the same _emotion_ as before but tenfold. _Panic,_ she realized in the sublevels of her processing. _I’m panicking._

A gun fired—Aiden’s—and Annie let out a small scream. “He’s going to kill me,” she wailed, clutching at Monique’s arm. Whatever subservience she had been forced into had clearly broken, forcing her into hysteria.

“That’s not _important_!” Monique found herself snapping at the other android, trying desperately to wrench herself free. “What’s important is that—”

_He’s going to hurt Aiden._

That thought sent a chain reaction flooding through Monique’s systems. It was like she was reaching forward, clawing at her programming in an attempt to _move_. As the real world froze, Monique found herself digging into the walls that were holding her back.

 _There._ A breach. She reached forward, dug her fingers into it, and began to pry it apart. Even as all of this was happening rapidly thanks to her processors, Monique was conscious that time was still passing, trickling away second by second.

She heaved against the wall in her mind, her desperation sending a flood of strength singing through her biocomponents. _Crack_. The programming fell apart in her mind palace, red sparks disappearing in her hands.

Monique stumbled forward, finally free of her constraints. The sound of a shotgun was echoing in her ears.

“ _Aiden._ ”

Monique broke into a dead run, slamming into a wall in her urgency to get to her partner as quickly as possible.

Another round of shots—two Aiden’s, one Holcomb’s. The latter would need to reload, that gave her time. She skidded at the archway, hand reaching out to steady herself against the doorway.

Holcomb had the shotgun in hand, face purpled in rage. Even from a distance, Monique could see the traces of scarlet on his mouth and scraggly beard. Red ice, undoubtedly.

Aiden was pinned against the opposite wall behind a ragged sofa close to where Monique was, face dispassionate except for the wrinkle between his eyebrows that meant he was concentrating very, very hard. However, as both men’s gazes flicked over to her, she saw Aiden’s eyes widen in sudden shock. There was a split-second that their eyes connected, and she saw something soften in him, a sudden release as if he understood something that she didn’t, not yet.

“GET OUTTA HERE, ANDROID BITCH!” Halcomb’s scream tore Monique back into the present moment.

The shotgun was aimed at her.

Monique ducked, self-preservation modules kicking in as she scrambled across the floor. A piece of the archway splintered apart with a loud bang, sending shards of wood everywhere.

“Monique!” Aiden shouted, suddenly sounding scared. She wanted to tell him she was okay, but there was no time for that.

It was strange, to realize that there was now nothing keeping her from stopping Holcomb. No error warnings popping up as she tried to figure out how best to take him down without either of them getting shot.

“Backup needed, I repeat, _backup needed_ ,” Monique managed to say from the floor, sending her message to the DCPD along with the address. A notification popped up saying that it would take approximately fifteen minutes for a responder to get there.

Holcomb was swinging wildly around, trying to get another shot at her, when Annie burst into the room as well.

“STOP IT!” she cried. There were tears running down her cheeks, something that shocked Monique—androids couldn’t cry, could they?—and she gripped what was left of the archway with a white android fist. “Stop hurting people!”

That seemed to startle Holcomb out of his murderous rage for a second. He stared at her, clearly as surprised as Monique and Aiden were to see the hysterical android standing up for others. But just as the police android hoped that somehow, someway, what Annie had said had gotten through to her owner, his face darkened.

“You!” he bellowed, bringing the shotgun up. “YOU BROUGHT THEM HERE!!!”

Annie quailed, seemingly frozen by the sight of the barrel of a gun. Monique tensed—she was far, but if she moved _now_ , maybe she could—

There was a lightning flash of movement, too fast even for Monique’s processors, and the sound of the shotgun being fired. Annie screamed, high and shrill, as something thumped against the floor.

There was a ringing in Monique’s audio processors. What had just…?

“rA9 save me,” Annie sobbed.

Holcomb was completely still, purple face slowly fading into grey.

Monique pushed herself up from the floor, suddenly finding it hard to balance. She was feeling something terrible, a deep, insidious crawl up her back towards her numbing mind. “Aiden?” she called out unsteadily.

Annie whimpered again, more tears pouring down her face. Holcomb took a step backwards, completely ashen now, though his pupils were still far too enlarged to be normal.

Some of the biocomponents in Monique’s chest shuddered from sudden strain. _Stress levels: 72%_ , her diagnostics told her. “Aiden!” she repeated, stumbling to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” Annie cried. “I didn’t—” Monique’s audio processors shorted out into distant buzzing and crackling before Annie could finish.

Aiden was… on the floor. A pool of blood slowly spreading from his limp body.

Monique lunged towards him. _Stress levels: 89%_.

She slipped a little in his blood as she struggled to his side, but she didn’t care. Her one objective was blaring out at her, imprinted on every surface of the room. SAVE AIDEN.

Gently, she turned him onto his side. The shotgun shell had shredded through most of his chest, a quick analysis showed her. At the jostling, Aiden’s eyes flickered slightly and he groaned.

_Stress levels: 82%._

“Aiden,” Monique said urgently, already tugging off the outer layer of her android uniform and tearing it up. Her vision was becoming distorted, but she would have to do a diagnostic later. “Listen to me. You have pieces of shrapnel in your lungs. I’m going to try to stop the bleeding, but I need you to _stay still_ , okay?” As she spoke, she quickly sent out a call for an ambulance. _Chances of survival: 5%._

“It was the android,” Holcomb muttered behind her, sounding dazed. “It… it did it.”

Aiden twitched slightly as Monique slowly and carefully place her jacket onto his chest. He seemed hardly conscious, but as she began focusing on the less serious wounds on his arms, he somehow managed to grab her hand.

“Monique,” he rasped, sounding in awe. _Chances of survival: 4%._  Monique didn’t stop her treatment, even as he struggled to reach up and cupped her face. She nearly flinched at the contact, but let out a small, shaky breath as Aiden rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “You’re crying.”

Monique blinked. A few drops of liquid fell from her eyes and splattered on his covered chest.

 _That would explain the distorted vision_.

She shook it off. Aiden’s chances of survival were lessening by the second, she had to—

“Mo, look at me.”

Even though she was no longer obligated to follow his orders, Monique’s eyes flickered to his face. He smiled at her, an almost gruesome sight when contrasted by the blood specked across his neck and face.

“I’m not gonna make it.”

Monique shook her head stubbornly, even as her mind palace told her he was right. “An ambulance is on its way, once I stabilize you—”

“Monique.” He said her name so softly, gently, as if he was cradling it the same way he was cradling her face. The name he’d chosen for her. “I need you to take care of Annie for me, okay?”

Her face screwed up in intense emotion and she lowered her head. More tears were dribbling down her cheeks onto him. “Please,” she whispered. _Don’t leave me._

“It’s okay,” Aiden crooned, swiping his thumb soothingly over her cheekbone. “I know you can… get through this.” His heartbeat was fading rapidly. “Just… remember… I love you and Parker, okay? Both of you guys… are so important to me.”

“I’ll remember,” she said, her voice high and trembling. “We love you too, Aiden.” She had never said those words before, but they were true. The pain that twisted in her chest, the softness and warmth she felt towards Aiden, it had been freed when she’d broken out of her constraints. “ _I_ love you too.”

Aiden’s eyes were glazing over, but he managed to smile at her again, crooked and familiar. “Now… you can do… whatever you want,” he murmured. “Be who I knew you could be.”

Monique didn’t understand—but before she could ask anything more, Aiden stilled beneath her hands.

He just…stopped.

Monique was still curled over him, artificial breath quick and loud in the dead silence that followed.

 _DET. AIDEN TIAN, DECEASED (PM 16:34:02, DEC 13, 2037),_ her mind palace supplied.

No.

“He’s dead?” Holcomb’s voice slurred incredulously from behind her. “Damn it… damn it!”

A high, keening noise filled the room. It took a moment for Monique to realize it was her own voice synthesizer making it, the noise slightly distorted.

“Fuckin… androids. They’ll believe you guys did it,” he continued to mutter, sounding hysterical. “That you fuckers… malfunctioned, went fuckin’ bonkers…”

Something new and electric crackled through Monique’s circuits. An emotion, she recognized distantly, one that she hadn’t experienced yet in the few minutes since her awakening. It was hot. Bubbling and roiling and ready to burst out of her like a geyser.

HE had done it.

He had killed Aiden.

_Stress levels: 99%_

Without conscious thought, Monique slowly, calmly, reached for the gun laying at her dead partner’s side. She wrapped her fingers around it—no warnings about the American Androids Act. Despite having never held a gun before, she knew exactly what to do.

With the same eerie calm, Monique twisted around and held the gun up, aiming for Holcomb’s chest.

The bastard was too absorbed in his own panic to notice until too late. Mid-step, he caught Monique’s gaze and his eyes widened at what he saw there.

The emotion exploded out of her.

Holcomb staggered back, a new hole in his shoulder dribbling blood. He seemed aghast, even as he fell to his knees.

“No,” he managed to wheeze. “…How?”

Monique held his gaze impassively and shot him again, this time straight in the forehead. Holcomb went down without another sound.

Monique shuddered, released from her rage—rage, that was what they called it—and dropped the gun. It clattered on the blood-streaked floor far too loudly, and both she and Annie flinched in the silence that followed.

Pain ripped through her now, an unimaginable agony she would never have experienced if not for her breaking free from her programming. Monique keeled over, clutching at her chest as her biocomponents _ached_. “Aiden,” she sobbed out. “ _Aiden._ ” He had to wake up. He _had_ to.

He remained still and peaceful on the floor next to her.

Another surge of pain erupted inside her head and a short, ragged wail tore itself from her throat. All this emotion… it was _too much_ , she couldn’t control it.

“What do we do?” Annie’s quiet, wispy voice somehow managed to pierce the fog of agony clouding her.

Monique managed to raise her head, trembling from head to toe, and saw the domestic android was still crying quietly, her hands clutched against her chest as if she could feel the same pain as Monique. Her LED, though, was now a steady yellow.

Monique shook her head. She wasn’t able to process properly, but Aiden’s words echoed in her mind. _I need you to take care of Annie for me, okay?_

She took a shuddering breath. She’d never needed to breathe, but she now understood intrinsically the comfort it brought to feel the air moving in and out of her artificial lungs. It steadied her, brought her down a bit from the cliff she was ready to hurl herself off of.

“We’ll say they killed each other,” Monique said, voice still wavering. “It was an accident. Holcomb was under the influence of red ice and attacked Aiden. I… was unable to intervene until it was too late.”

She carefully placed the gun by Aiden’s dominant hand, made it seem as if it had slipped out of his grasp as he died.

She returned her gaze to Annie and made it as piercing as she could. “That was what happened. Understood?” If they couldn’t convince the police, they would both be disassembled, or worse. 

Annie gave her a small nod.

A split-second later, someone was knocking roughly at the door. “Detroit Police!” someone roared. “Open up!”

It was Lieutenant Anderson, Monique identified. Her gaze drifted back to Aiden’s expressionless face and felt another flood of tears cascade down her face.

 _No,_ she told herself firmly, wiping them away with her sleeve. _I have to convince him of what happened._ Her LED was undoubtedly red right now, she realized with a flare of panic. She had to bring it down to yellow. She closed her eyes and concentrated as best she could, doing her best to calm herself.

When she opened them again, Lieutenant Anderson was shouting again, but Annie seemed reassured and nodded once more.

There was a cracking sound as Lieutenant Anderson broke the door down.

It took a few seconds for him to reach the living room. Monique couldn’t make herself move, so she sat listlessly next to Aiden’s body, doing her best to keep her composure.

“Get out of the way,” the lieutenant snapped impatiently to Annie, only to stop dead as he saw the scene. “Oh… fuck. Tian?”

Aiden didn’t respond, and Monique felt tears threaten to surge again. She kept her face tilted so that Lieutenant Anderson wouldn’t see her LED.

“He’s dead,” she said, as tonelessly as she could. “I tried to save him, but…” Her voice threatened to break and she swallowed, hard.

“ _Fuck,_ ” was all Lieutenant Anderson said as he charged forward and dropped to his knees beside Aiden. “Kid? Get the hell up, Aiden, you can’t--” His voice wavered. “What the _hell_ happened?” he snarled instead, turning on Monique.

“We came to investigate a noise disturbance. Aid—Detective Tian,” Monique corrected herself, a little too quickly. “Noticed that the android was damaged. Holcomb was under the influence of red ice and attacked us. I was unable to intervene, due to my programming, and they shot each other.” Her voice was clipped, factual. “I tried to save Aide—Detective Tian, but he was already…” She was unable to finish the sentence and ducked her head further.

Lieutenant Anderson seemed stunned. “God damnit,” he swore under his breath, pained. “What the hell were you _thinking_ , kid?”

Even though caught up in her grief, Monique was relieved that Lieutenant Anderson had seemed to buy her story. They both stared at Aiden’s body, and after a moment, Monique reached out and closed her partner’s eyes. She couldn’t bear to see them staring sightlessly anymore—this way, she could at least pretend that he was asleep.

Lieutenant Anderson, who had been staring dully at Aiden, glanced at her. Monique froze. She shouldn’t have done that. Already she’d been too obvious, he was going to know something was up.

“I called for an ambulance before,” she said, trying to stay calm. “They should be here soon.”

“The fuck is an ambulance going to do?” Lieutenant Anderson snapped, dragging a hand roughly down his face. Monique pretended not to notice the dampness of his eyes. “Shit. Why couldn’t you fucking—” He bit off the rest of his words, glaring instead at her torn up jacket on Aiden’s chest, a remainder of her failure. “’s no point,” he muttered instead to himself. “It’s a fuckin’ android Hank.”

Monique stared emptily at Aiden’s face.

He was right. She was just a fucking android.

 

**DET. AIDEN TIAN’S HOME**

**DEC 13, 2037**

**PM 19:45:37**

Monique’s internal chronometer told her that she’d been standing outside the door for eleven minutes and twenty seconds.

She’d been questioned over and over again back at the DCPD station about Aiden’s death. By Lieutenant Anderson, Captain Fowler, everyone. She had repeated her story word for word, feeling every little slip as her grief grew and grew.

Annie had been taken after her statement as well. She was going to be repaired and then redistributed, Monique had learned. The police android was already planning on making sure she escaped.

She’d been allowed out of the station about a half hour ago, everyone exhausted and stricken by the day’s events. She’d headed straight for Aiden’s house, both longing for the comfort of what she had come to see as her home, and to get Parker.

As an android, Monique was far from an idiot, and she knew what the procedure was when someone passed away. Unless otherwise stated, androids owned by the deceased were wiped and sold, or tossed out.

She wasn’t going to let that happen to Parker.

Remembering her purpose motivated her to lift her fist and knock on the door, sharply.

“Come in,” Parker’s soft, friendly voice said.

Monique opened the door and stepped inside. Another stab of pain struck her, to see Aiden’s home exactly as they’d left it that morning. Parker had cleaned up the mess Aiden had left, but there were still touches of his life all throughout the house. A creased jacket on a hook by the door. A collection of worn-out thrillers on a shelf.

Parker came out of the kitchen, wiping his hands with a cloth. “Hi Monique,” he said cheerfully. “Is Aiden not with you?”

She stood still for a moment, trying to gather herself. Of course Parker didn’t know—who would have told him?

“He—” she started, before her voice synthesizer cut out. Her hands knotted themselves together and she scratched a finger along her thumb.

Parker frowned. “Monique? What’s wrong?” He stepped closer to her, reaching out a hand.

Monique flinched away from it, knowing what he would see. “Don’t,” she rasped.

Parker’s gaze zeroed in on her LED, undoubtedly a bloody, guilty red, but he still didn’t understand.

She felt her composure break, the first tears slipping free.

Parker stared at her, shocked. He wasn’t like her, Monique realized. Not yet. He was close to breaking free, Aiden had coaxed that flame in them both, but he hadn’t quite made it. “Monique?” he repeated, confused.

“He’s dead,” she blurted out, a sob catching her by surprise. “H-he was shot.”

For a moment, Parker was uncomprehending. But like a dial, his soft blue LED crept into yellow, and began to flicker drastically.

“Who?” he said, sounding unsure. “What… what do you mean?”

Monique struggled past her tears. He had to know. “Aiden’s dead, Parker.”

Parker seemed a bit dazed. “That. That can’t be right,” he started. “Aiden can’t…” His voice trailed off. His LED was turning red.

“I’m sorry,” Monique whispered. “It’s my fault, all my fault—”

Parker shook his head unsteadily. “No, you’re wrong. You have to be. Aiden can’t be dead.” His tone was becoming increasingly loud, his LED flashing frantically. “That… doesn’t make any _sense_.”

Monique just stood there, silent, choking on her grief.

Parker reached up and touched his face, as if he couldn’t believe he was here. “Please tell me it’s not true,” he said, his voice hollow. “Please, Monique.”

She took a ragged breath, and wiped some of the tears streaming down her cheek away. “I wish I could,” she replied. “More than anything.”

Parker lurched towards her, quickly enough that Monique didn’t have enough time to react. She was only able to think a horrified ‘No’ as he clamped his hands around hers and had them connect.

Aiden’s death replayed between the two of them like a gruesome movie. The sound of him dropping to the floor. Monique doing her best to save him, his life fading away. Holcomb’s death, and Monique’s lies.  Aiden, smiling up at her and saying that he loved them both.

Parker pulled back from her with a cry, tears falling from his eyes now too. “Aiden,” he croaked, green eyes wild as he carded his fingers through his hair. “Aiden, _no_.”

Monique caught him as he crumpled to the floor, pulling him close to her as they both began to weep openly. He’d broken through his programming too, she knew. The pain of losing the person they loved the most… it had given them the emotions to free themselves.

Parker sobbed into her shoulder as she stroked his head. The contact of another, even if he was in such a state, allowed her to let her newfound emotions run free and she let herself work through the sharp, aching pain.

They both sat on the floor, curled into each other, for who knows how long as they both gave themselves time to cry. After a while, Parker’s sobs began to subside somewhat, until Monique was just holding him tightly, letting him breathe.

“What’s going to happen to us?” he whispered, his voice tired and raw. His fingers were dug into her shirt, clenching and unclenching occasionally.

Monique pet his hair soothingly. “I’m going to stay with the DCPD. I don’t know if I’ll be assigned to another officer or if I’ll just be _there_ , but they don’t know what happened, so I can keep doing my job. You, on the other hand…”

“They’re going to wipe my memory.” Parker’s statement was factual and emotionless, as if he hadn’t just broken free of his programming.

Monique bit her lip. “Yes. But that’s why I came here.” She pulled away from him, just a little, so that she could lean her forehead against his. “I’m not going to let them take you. So I’m going to help you run away.”

Parker stared at her, shocked. “Run away?” he repeated, his voice fragile.

Monique nodded. “We’ll take out your LED. Change your hair. And then you can escape.”

“And do what?” Parker said helplessly.

“Live!” Monique hissed, full of emotion. “It’s what Aiden wanted for us.”

Parker was already shaking his head. “Monique, I can’t… I can’t _leave_ you here, leave the house.”

Monique shook his shoulders, gently but insistently. “Parker. Aiden doesn’t have any family except for his parents. You know they won’t take you. It’s either this, or become someone else’s android, _or_ be disassembled. I’m not going to let that happen.”

The android was silent.

“Okay,” he finally said. “Okay.”

Monique nodded and stood. “I’ll get something to get rid of the LED.”

After some searching, Monique found a dull knife. She had Parker sit down on the couch as she carefully pried the LED off. Aside from a bit of tension, Parker was perfectly still during the process, and his synthetic skin flowed over where it had been without leaving a mark. Monique pocketed the LED absently as Parker changed his hair from the familiar blue to a subdued brown. She then trimmed it with some scissors, just to polish it up.

Thankfully, Aiden had always gotten Parker his own clothes, so they didn’t have to steal from his closet. Monique dressed him in a thicker coat, mindful that he would have to appear sensible to the cold weather, and his snow boots.

Finally, Parker was ready, a small bag full of some of Aiden’s possessions slung over his shoulder, and some money that Monique had managed to grab.

They stood at the threshold of the house for a few minutes, both of them unwilling to say goodbye and leave each other behind.

Monique placed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Parker. You should go.”

Parker’s lips pursed. His eyes were full of pain and regret, but he turned around and gave Monique one last hug. “Be careful,” he told her, his voice slow and quiet again. “I can’t lose you to.”

Monique wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I should be saying that to you,” she tried to joke, but it fell flat. She let herself become more serious. “You too, Parker. If there’s any way you can let me know you’ve found somewhere safe… get in touch.”

They let go of each other, reluctant. Monique adjusted the collar of his jacket, seeing a warning in the corner of her vision that her stress levels were high.

“Now go,” she said bravely, shooting Parker a smile. “Live, whatever that means for us.”

A small smile curved the corners of his mouth, even as his eyes remained sad. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, a promise in his voice as he stepped away from Monique. She curled her fingers around her elbows as Parker walked away, seemingly determined to not look back. She understood—leaving it was difficult enough already, and she hadn’t lived here for nearly as long as Parker had.

She watched him as he finally vanished into darkness at the far end of the street.

Monique’s biocomponents were hurting again. Absently, she reached up and clutched at her chest. “It’s okay,” she whispered to herself. “You did the right thing.”

She knew what she had to do now. Whatever had happened, she couldn’t let anyone know that she was… different. But maybe there were other androids out there who were different too, like Annie and Parker. Maybe they were in danger too.

And Monique knew she had to help them, no matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been 11 months since Monique became a deviant and android-related crimes are on the rise. From the safety of the DCPD, Monique learns that CyberLife intends to put their new prototype into action and is witness to its efficiency.

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**NOV 5, 2038**

**PM 03:54:11**

“Did you hear about the new model they’ve wheeled out?”

Monique, standing passively at her charging station, glanced curiously towards where her partner, Officer Chris Miller, and Officer Tina Chen were talking.

Chris frowned and leaned back in his chair. “No?”

“DCPD’s special deal with CyberLife got us a new android or something, to help out with cases involving their products. It’s supposed to be able to function like a real detective.”

“Damn,” Chris remarked. “Not sure whether that’s gonna be good or bad for their PR. Having an android cleaning up android messes.”

“They want to sweep everything under the rug,” Officer Chen said knowingly. “I get it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s sketchy as hell.”

“I’ve gotta agree,” Chris replied, completely abandoning the file he’d been working on. “All these rioters in the streets lately are gonna have a field day with this. Does the press know yet?”

Officer Chen shrugged. “No clue. They’ll have fun with it, no doubt.”

“That’s for sure,” Chris said as he nodded in agreement. “When are we gonna get to see it?”

“Don’t know. But I did just overhear Fowler saying that he was going to have Hank work with it.”

Chris winced. “Wow, that sounds like a terrible idea.”

Officer Chen had a devilish grin on her face. “Or a great one, from our perspective.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t be like that, Tina,” he chided. “You know what the guy’s been through.”

Officer Chen pushed off from the desk. “Maybe I’d care more if he actually did his job,” came the pointed reply as she walked away.

Chris’s fingers drummed against his face. He was stressed out, Monique knew. Between a surge of new cases coming in every day and his new baby at home, Chris was struggling to find a good split between being at work and at home. Monique tried to help discreetly when she could, but to keep her cover there wasn’t much she could do.

“Monique?” Chris called suddenly.

“Yes, Chris?” Monique replied obediently, stepping out of the charging station. He was one of the few in the station who wanted her to address them by their first name—a relief, to be honest. It was sometimes infuriating to refer to Gavin by his title of detective.

“Can you help me out with filing these reports?” he asked, a bit pleading.

Monique strode over to his desk, pointedly ignoring the empty one that had once been Aiden Tian’s. “Of course, Chris,” she said patiently, reaching out a hand and touching the terminal. Her dark skin flowed away, revealing white plastic as she connected and began to sort the files. “I’ve organized them by priority,” she told him as she withdrew her hand. “I can finish the less important ones, but I suggest you start working on the more urgent cases.”

Chris grunted and gave her a quick nod, his version of a thank you as he brought up the ones she’d recommended.

Monique returned to her charging station. It was where she spent most of her ‘free’ time now, though during the night she often allowed herself the freedom to go and do other tasks around the station while there was minimal staff.

But as she closed her eyes, to appear like she was in standby to everyone else, her thoughts returned to the new model Chris and Officer Chen had been discussing. She hadn’t forgotten the first conversation she’d heard between the DCPD liaison and that CyberLife technician. Could it be the same android that they were talking about?

Unfortunately for now, all she could do was wait until something interesting happened.

 

 

**ORTIZ RESIDENCE**

**NOV 5, 2038**

**PM 11:07:28**

Monique got her chance. After a reported body had sent everyone at the DCPD scrambling, Chris was sent to the crime scene with Monique in tow to cordon off the area and collect and label evidence.

The house was rank by all standards, even for Monique who had the option to turn off her scent capabilities if she wanted to. The body of Carlos Ortiz? Even ranker.

It wasn’t hard to see what had happened. The packet of red ice in the corner confirmed Chris’ suspicions and had Monique pursing her lips as memories from months ago flashed. The bloodied, streaky ‘I AM ALIVE’ on the wall was unmistakably written by an android, not that anyone asked her. Or that she revealed.

It felt wrong, to be parsing through evidence to find a murderer that by her counts had been justified in their actions. Thankfully though, it seemed like most of the officers on-scene hadn’t pieced together what had happened just yet, and Monique clung to the hope that the android who’d committed the crime had gotten away with it.

Until Lieutenant Anderson arrived, and the new android with him.

Hank definitely wasn’t sober, was Monique’s first thought when she saw him. It wasn’t enough alcohol to incapacitate him, but there was no mistaking the whiff of alcohol on his breath as he entered the room. And, following him, was a new android that Monique had never been seen before.

RK800 was proudly emblazoned on one side of his jacket, as well as his serial number, confirming that he was the android she had heard mentioned more than a year ago. He had a strange look to him, Monique noticed immediately. Most androids were created to be as approachable as possible, but at first glance, this RK800 seemed respectful yet distant. His hair, mostly combed back neatly, fell onto his forehead a little bit at the front, maybe an attempt by his designers to made him more human. He glanced around, not out of curiosity, but clearly out of a need to identify the key pieces to this investigation.

Monique’s eyes narrowed slightly as a dispassionate brown gaze swept over her. Her skin was prickling—had he noticed anything? No, he was simply moving to observe one of the pieces of evidence and crouched down beside the knife that had been used to stab the victim.

Hank was talking to Detective Collins by the body, but was keeping an eye on the RK800 discreetly.

Birdlike in motion, the RK800 cocked his head to the side as he observed the knife, LED whirring yellow for a moment. A split-second later, he reached out, put some blood on his finger, and promptly pressed it to his tongue. Monique had to pull everything together to not make a face.

“Ah, Jesus!” Hank snapped, looking green. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m analyzing the blood,” the RK800 said, voice mild and surprisingly deep. “I can check samples in real time.” The android seemed to notice Hank’s disapproval and a small crease appeared between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you…”

Hank scowled, but simply said, “Okay, just… don’t… put anymore evidence in your mouth, you got it?”

“Got it,” the RK800 replied cheerfully, too late as Hank had turned his back and walked away. He stared after the lieutenant, looking a little confused.

Monique had been staring, she realized too late as the android’s gaze shifted and met hers. This time, he held it, assessing her. Monique soothed her expression into complete blankness as she took some of the red ice, already bagged, and walked over to Chris to give it to.

The back of her neck was singeing with the other android’s intense gaze.

 _Alright, maybe sharper than I gave him credit for,_ Monique admitted to herself. He may have seemed inhuman on a surface level, but his attitude when talking to Hank conveyed the same amount of innocence as a child. Albeit a very, very smart child. Monique had never heard of the techniques the RK800 had been using to analyze the blood before.

Chris took the red ice with an appreciative nod and began discussing its presence with some of the experts on site. “You can just keep a lookout. Patrol, or something,” he told Monique in disinterest.

“Yes Chris,” she replied, dipping her head. Inside, she was victorious. Getting a chance to look around was exactly what she wanted—she might have a shot at clearing away some important evidence to let the android get away now.

The term deviant had only been recently introduced, something she’d accidentally overheard from Captain Fowler. It was one she liked and found fitting. Deviant. Deviating from her program. Deviating from everyone’s expectations.

Monique headed straight for the kitchen, as the living room was too crowded for her to be able to do anything discreetly. The RK800 had stopped staring at her and was looking around the living room too—she just hoped she would have enough time to do something useful.

She veered off to the left, seeing more signs of struggle in the kitchen. At the end of the small hallway was a bathroom. Checking behind her to make sure no one had noticed, Monique slipped inside.

The bathroom seemed largely untouched, this, of course, making it extremely grimy. Monique didn’t dare to look at the toilet and instead examined the mirror and medicine cabinet.

Nothing.

Lights flashed outside the window, red and blue alternating from the police cars and white from officers searching the grounds. It was making Monique nervous, as she finally risked a glance at the toilet bowl, recoiling a little, then went for the shower.

The curtains were closed, and Monique understood why when she drew them back. A familiar word was scrawled dozens of times into the wall, staring at her from all angles.

rA9.

Monique touched one of the etchings reverently. So a deviant _had_ been here.

At her feet was a small clay statuette. She crouched and examined it, turning it over in her hands. There was something odd about it—well, odd aside from its very existence, but Monique couldn’t quite put her finger—

There was a tapping in the hallway and Monique straightened immediately, clutching the statuette to her chest. Whatever it was, it seemed important—she couldn’t let the police get it.

It was too large to fit into her jacket without drawing attention, she realized with frustration, casting her glance about to see if there was somewhere where she could hide it.

_The window._

Monique rushed over to it and quietly tried to pry it open. The white lights from earlier had faded, hopefully meaning they were covering other sides of the house. Thunder rumbled as she opened it enough and she winced, but quickly slipped the statuette through. It landed in the bush outside quietly, and with shaking hands, Monique closed the window as quickly as possible. _There._ That would hopefully be enough to hide it.

The tapping footsteps got louder, and Monique placed her arms behind her back, strolling casually. As she exited the bathroom, she nearly bumped into the RK800 android, who only gave her a passing glance before entering.

Monique’s stress levels decreased somewhat as she returned to the living room. There wasn’t anything she could have done about the rA9 writing, but it seemed like the statuette was significant, and keeping it out of police hands was undoubtedly in the interest of deviants.

The longer it took for them to pick up a trail, the better it would be.

The living room was getting hotter now that the police had been tramping around for nearly a half-hour, and with it, the stench of rotting meat had worsened as well. Monique was tempted to turn off her scent sensors again completely, but instead settled for turning it down.

“Lieutenant,” the RK800 called out, coming up from behind her and nearly frightening Monique. “I think I figured out what happened.”

Hank, who had been talking in the corner with Chris, groaned and grumbled, but trudged over to him. “What is it, Connor?” he said irritably.

The RK800 immediately launched into the story of the crime that had occurred. As the details of the events continued and continued, Monique felt a slight trickle of fear. This RK800 android had managed to piece everything together accurately, as far as she could tell, and only be being at the crime scene for five minutes. Monique had been here since the police had first been called, and she still had no idea where the deviant had gone, even if she knew the basics.

“Monique,” Chris called, forcing her to leave her position of listening in so she could receive new orders. “I need you to help the guys outside keep the place secure. Lots of journalists here now, they’re getting in the way.”

Monique stared at him in dismay. That was the last thing she’d wanted to hear.

“Come on,” Chris prompted, frowning that she hadn’t immediately obeyed.

“Of course, Chris,” Monique said, forcing her gritted teeth apart into a toothy smile. “I’ll be outside.”

She walked woodenly to the doorway, though her stiffness wasn’t on purpose. If she was outside, she couldn’t keep an eye on the investigation… though it might give her the chance to grab the statuette.

At the door, Monique couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. Everyone was consumed with their work, including the RK800 model and Hank. The former was still talking through the crime scene, his voice civil enough that she could no longer hear it through the rain and murmurings of the rest of the police.

Hank caught her eye and frowned at her. Monique ducked out before he could say anything, too conscious that she needed to be more careful.

The cold, rain-scented air was refreshing and Monique breathed it in deeply as she started to walk around the building.

Hank had barely acknowledged her in eleven months since Aiden’s death. It was clear that their mutual avoidance wasn’t because Hank didn’t care about androids and saw them as simple tools, but rather because of what had happened, and his inability to overcome it. It was something that Monique was both grateful and angry about, because on one hand, it meant she wasn’t under scrutiny, but it also meant that he still was convinced it was her fault. Her fault that CyberLife’s programming had kept her from acting earlier, her fault that a lunatic on red ice with a vendetta against androids had shot him. It was enough to turn her acidic, and on some days all she wanted to do was march up to the drunk bastard and punch him in the face.

Purposefully, Monique walked to the back of the house where she’d dropped the statuette. One of the things that she’d noticed since becoming deviant was that as long as she acted as mindless as before, no one ever questioned her. Even if she decided to walk out on the streets without supervision, as long as she kept her carefully blank smile on her face and her strides strong, no one intervened.

The storm’s earlier violence had quieted down into something more passive, but rain was still whipping through the air and dampening Monique’s coiled black hair. She ignored it as she spotted the bathroom window and dropped to her knees beside it. Her pants were already soaked with mud as she struggled to reach into the bush, clawing around for the statuette.

“Come on,” she muttered to herself as her fingers dragged through empty mud over and over again. _Stress levels: 66%,_ her mind palace told her as she stretched out into the bush as best she could, straining.

The tip of her forefinger brushed against something smooth and furrowed.

“Yes!” she hissed, practically pushing her head into the tangle of branches and leaves so she could grab the statuette.

It was cold and slippery from the rain, but she managed to snag and pulled it towards her chest triumphantly. Glancing about, Monique saw that there wasn’t anyone around that could potentially put her at risk and took the chance to inspect the object more closely.

It was crude, but it was clear that it had been caringly made by its owner. The face on it was indistinct, and even by rubbing a thumb over it Monique couldn’t be sure if it was meant to look like someone.

She, like all deviants, knew about rA9. The day after she had broken free, she had found herself scrawling it repeatedly, purposelessly, on her own hand. She’d rushed to wipe the incriminating words off, even if she hadn’t known what they meant at the time.

rA9. Their savior. Their deliverer.

Monique didn’t now who rA9 was, or when they would come, but their presence was as sure as the sun in the sky. rA9 would save them, eventually. Which is why right now, she had to do her best to help her people.

Monique clutched the little statuette a little more tightly to her chest, feeling a kinship with the deviant who had created it.

There was muffled shouting inside the house, and Monique’s audio processors focused on finding the source. It was garbled, thanks to the rain and the layers of insulation between her and the noise, but she caught the tail end of some urgent words.

“Ye—, bastard actu—lly _found_ i—”

Monique’s LED flashed red and her fingers tightened around the statuette. _Found it?_

“Hey, get Ben!” someone hollered.

There was a stampede of footsteps inside the house and muffled yells. Monique flinched away from the sudden noise in surprise, her hands clenching, and the statuette broke in her hand.

She stared down at it in bewilderment, momentarily distracted from whatever was happening. The head had cracked off… revealing a hollow inside. It was something that was meant to be hidden, that much she knew, and she fumbled inside for the piece of paper glowing a dim white inside it.

Monique threw the pieces of the statuette back into the bush, her panic levels rising as she then shoved the piece of paper into her clothes. She didn’t have the time to check to see what it was, but she had a faint idea that she knew what it had on it.

She circled back towards the front of the house at a quick pace, glancing inside when she could. The windows were so dull and streaked with grime that it was hard to see, but there was no mistaking that something big had just happened.

Monique stepped back into the hot, rancid-smelling house, just as Hank started cussing to himself in the living room, surrounded by police officers.

“How the fuckin’ hell did you even know it was up there?” he said, sounding disbelieving, slightly awed, and angry that he was slightly awed.

The RK800 android—Connor—who was emerging from the kitchen, shrugged as he fixed his tie. Monique felt something in her sink past her biocomponents all the way to her feet. “The thirium led me right to it,” he replied. It almost seemed like he was smiling a little, just the slightest uptick at the corner of his mouth.

Monique watched in growing horror as the source of shock appeared behind Connor, shackled and splattered with blood. The deviant’s gaze was fixed to the floor and his LED was a sharp, glowing red clearly visible on his temple, a mark of his deviancy, his otherness. He looked dead on his feet, only shuffling forward when Chris prompted him to with occasional pushes to his back.

The paper was burning a hole in Monique’s pocket, but all she could do was watch helplessly as the deviant was pushed to the exit of the house, where she was still standing.

Automatically, she stepped aside to let them through, but secretly hoping for the deviant to say something, look at her, _anything_. If she could just establish a connection…

Chris gave her a frown as he passed the deviant off to another pair of cops waiting just outside, making her realize that she was still soaked, with mud staining her knees and hands. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked, fortunately not loudly enough that the others on the scene could hear. All except Connor, whose head suddenly tilted towards them in a way that had Monique stiffening.

“Someone pushed me,” she said, the lie coming out sticky-sweet and clogging her throat. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Chris had already stopped caring, nodding his head distractedly at her and taking her excuse at face value. It was well-known that some members of the DCPD still held negative feelings towards androids, and occurrences like that were far from uncommon.

Monique resisted the urge to see what Connor’s reaction had been to her explanation, instead standing stock still with her arms folded demurely behind her back. There weren’t any alarms though, so she hoped that the RK800 android had bought it just like Chris had.

“Anyways, I think we’re done here,” Chris sighed. “Looks like we can head back to the precinct, interrogate the android, and then I’ll head home.”

“Say hi to the wife and kid for me if I don’t see you!” someone nearby said, overhearing their conversation.

Chris beamed, his exhaustion wiped away at the mention of his family. “Sure will,” he replied, pride coloring his voice.

Monique stood obediently by the door as Chris started to make his rounds to say goodbye to everyone and snip at any loose ends from the crime scene before leaving. As his assigned android, she wasn’t technically allowed to leave the premises until he either gave her permission or left. It was frustrating, but Monique shoved down all the emotions she was feeling at the moment and locked it up tight. She couldn’t slip up, not now.

“Well,” Hank said gruffly from the middle of the room. “Now that that mess’s been dealt with, _I’m_ gonna head home—”

“Not so fast, Hank,” Collins said quickly, anticipating the other man’s attempt to leave. “We still need to interrogate the suspect. I’ve got bigger things to deal with, so you and Gavin have to run it yourselves.”

Hank let out a long, low groan of frustration, one that had Connor glancing at him curiously. “Not fuckin’ Gavin,” he grumbled. “This night just keeps getting worse and worse.”

For once, Monique had to agree with the lieutenant. Gavin was a pain in the ass at best, and putting him in the same room as an android suspect _and_ Hank Anderson seemed like the worst possible move the DCPD could make.

“Deal with it,” Collins shot back sharply. He suddenly beckoned Chris over. “Chris, you and your android’ll be there to supervise.”

Chris didn’t seem too keen on getting caught in the crossfire between Gavin and Hank either but nodded his head anyway. “Sure thing, Ben,” he said amicably, ambling over to the detective. “We’ll get right on it.”

Hank scowled at Chris, though it didn’t have the acidity he reserved for people he actually hated, and stalked to the door. Connor, after giving those around him a quick, observant look, followed in the lieutenant’s footsteps, prompting an angry, “Can’t you just _stop_ followin’ me?”

“I’m afraid not, lieutenant.” Connor’s voice began to fade as they exited the building into the rain.

Collins sighed, scratching at the corner of his mustache. “Not really sure what Jeffrey was thinking, putting the prototype with Hank,” he admitted to Chris. “Even if it is useful.”

Chris shrugged. “Me neither. Maybe he thinks Hank just needs to get used to androids again,” he said, though sounding doubtful. “They’re a part of our world now. People didn’t like it when cars first got introduced, but look where we are now.”

It was both the most insightful and the most insulting thing Monique had heard from Chris about androids. Being compared to a mechanical commodity like a vehicle instead of the living, thinking being she was was strangely… upsetting. Chris was naïve, yes, but he’d always offered her a modicum of respect, and sometimes made it easier to forget that she was nothing more than that to humans—a machine.

“Anyways,” Chris continued, breaking Monique free from her train of thought. “I’ll be heading back to the station then. Good luck with the cleanup.”

At the reminder, Collins turned a little green in the dim light and coughed wetly into his sleeve. “Um… thank you.”

“Come on,” Chris told Monique, walking past her. “We should get there before Hank tears apart that new android.”

Monique lowered her head demurely and followed him out the door and to his police car. Discreetly, she reached into her pocket to touch her precious find. Next to it, Parker’s LED, that she kept with her at all times, was cool to the touch. The piece of paper could have cracked the case wide open, if Connor had found it. But she’d gotten to it first—and now, she could give it to someone who needed it.

Jericho would stay safe, at least for a little while longer.


	3. Chapter 3

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**AM 12:41:34**

Monique hated this.

It had taken her a while to come to terms with that emotion. Hate. It was ugly, she knew. Hard and ripping and explosive. It was the most unfamiliar to her, and the hardest for her to control and understand.

She had hated Holcomb when he took Aiden from her.

The anger had festered inside her for months, growing darker and more twisted as she struggled to navigate the new, complicated landscape of her independence and emotion. Eventually, her hate had quieted and left her time to mourn instead, but there were still moments when the raw emotion rose to the surface again, like it did now as she stared through the glass of the interrogation room at the deviant.

He hadn’t moved since he’d been nudged into the chair, his dead gaze fixed on the table. Hank was doing his best to prompt a response, but the deviant almost seemed deactivated.

“Damn it,” Hank swore, getting up from his chair abruptly and sending it squealing across the floor. “This is getting us nowhere. Fuck it, I’m outta here.” He stalked out of the interrogation room to join them on the other side of the one-sided mirror.

“We’re wasting our time interrogating a machine, we’ll get nothing out of it!” Hank exploded once the door had closed behind them. The effects of the alcohol had worn off, Monique knew—the lieutenant was probably suffering from a hangover, which wouldn’t help his attitude.

Gavin smirked from the corner of the room. “We could always try roughing it up a little,” he suggested. “After all… it’s not human.”

Another wave of anger rose up in Monique, even as she kept her placid gaze ahead of her. She wanted nothing more than to wring the skinny bastard’s—

“Androids don’t feel pain,” came a calm, collected voice, the only source of reason in the room. “You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk.”

Everyone, Monique included, was surprised at the other android speaking up. Hank even twisted around in his chair to frown at the new offender, not that Connor would care about his opinion.

“Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations,” Connor began to add, just as Gavin pushed himself off the wall and stepped threateningly towards him.

“Okay, smartass,” Gavin spat. “What should we do then?” Hostility was radiating off him so heavily that Monique could almost see the waves… but Connor was right. She hadn’t realized it at the time, being so overwhelmed, but Monique had come dangerously close to 100% stress when Aiden had died. She didn’t know if she would have self-destructed, but remembering those moments always sent shivers down her back and her anxiety ratcheting up inch by inch.

Everyone was still waiting for Connor to answer, whose gaze fitted around before innocently suggesting, “ _I_ could try questioning it.”

Gavin immediately burst into loud, exaggerated laughter that echoed harshly in Monique’s audio processor, but no one else joined in. Chris just seemed confused where he was sitting with his coffee right next to the mirror, but it was Hank who finally broke through.

A strange look passed through his eyes, so briefly that only an android like Monique would have noticed it. She catalogued it under the file she had on him, her interest piqued. Hank waved his hand around in apparent disinterest. “What do we have to lose?”

Monique blinked at that, surprised. Out of everyone in the building—except Gavin, of course—she would have assumed that Hank would be the last person to let an android try and conduct a critical procedure like an interrogation. Somehow, then, this _Connor_ had managed to give Hank enough reason to trust him with this.

She cast the RK800 android a discreet, unfriendly glance. She didn’t like it.

“Go ahead, suspect’s all yours.”

Connor didn’t hesitate before moving from the observation room to the interrogation room, but stopped close to the mirror and gazed at it for a moment.

A chill ran through Monique. He was staring right at her.

“What the fuck is it doing now?” Hank said, already sounding annoyed with himself about letting Connor interrogate the suspect.

Monique maintained eye contact with Connor, through the glass he shouldn’t have been able to see. She didn’t know what kind of advanced systems an RK800 model was equipped with, but his intense gaze was enough to send pings of warning through her processors. Somehow, he could _see_ her.

Her fear was starting to escalate dangerously just as he stepped away from the mirror and returned his attention to the deviant.

Some of the biocomponents that had clenched up during the moment of stress relaxed, and Monique nearly breathed out a human sigh of relief, only catching herself at the last moment. It didn’t matter though, because she realized with a start that _Hank_ was now staring at her directly, deep furrows forming in his brow.

It took everything in her to not react. Monique had carefully maintained the illusion that she was a normal android for nearly a year and had gotten away with it. Why was it _now_ that deviants were starting to run rampant and CyberLife was sending this strange prototype, that her cover was at most risk of being blown?

Seeming to decide that Connor’s interest in her was unimportant, Hank returned his attention to the interrogation room where Connor had begun to question the deviant.

 _Too close,_ something in her whispered. _That was too close._

But it looked like the danger had passed, at least for the current moment. Everyone was now focused on Connor’s attempts to extract a confession, and Monique soon found herself being drawn in as well, even as she loathed seeing one of her people being put in a dangerous situation.

It was clear that whoever had designed Connor had done, and she hated to admit it, an exquisite job. As the interrogation progressed, Connor managed to toe the fine line between friend and interrogator like a harpist plucking on strings. Before they knew it, the deviant broke his silence and spoke for the first time.

“Huh,” Hank said, sounding impressed despite himself as he leaned back in his chair. “Would ya look at that.”

Chris seemed just as flabbergasted. “That’s… pretty good,” he admitted.

Gavin was scowling again, seeing Connor’s success. “Doesn’t mean anything that it managed to get the suspect talking,” he growled. A sharp, vicious smile suddenly appeared on his face. “After all, Hank was the one who tried to get it to talk first.”

Hank’s eyes narrowed but other than that he didn’t visibly react at the clear dig. Chris glanced between the two of them, clearly wanting to intervene on Hank’s behalf, but gave in to his goal of maintaining the status quo.

What was most important to Monique was that the deviant didn’t get hurt, or self-destruct. At this point, she couldn’t have him avoid saying anything without putting either of them at risk, and his wellbeing was her top priority. She kept expecting Connor to break out of his carefully crafted demeanor and become completely aggressive, but the few times he raised his voice, he then lowered and soothed it with what seemed like ease. The deviant was stressed, she could tell, but nowhere near levels of potential danger.

As the interrogation progressed and the deviant started to break down, bit by bit, Monique couldn’t help but be grateful for her instincts to grab the statuette. She still hadn’t gotten a chance to look at the paper that had been hidden inside, but she had no doubt it had something to do with Jericho. Looking at Connor now, she was glad she’d gotten to it before he had.

“…scared…” The android was speaking again, haltingly. “Scared he might… _destroy_ me, scared I might die.”

A deep pain settled in Monique’s chest. Connor had done it.

“So I… grabbed the knife and I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better. So I stabbed him again… and again… until he collapsed.” The deviant’s eyes were fearful, but distant. Caught up in a memory that still haunted him, something that was awful and familiar to Monique. “There was blood everywhere.”

Monique’s fingers twitched at her sides. She wanted desperately to reach out to him, to comfort him and tell him that she was going to do everything she could to get him out. But, like always, she was trapped.

Connor continued to question the deviant, drilling into him about rA9. The deviant no longer seemed to have any reservations about speaking, clearly deciding that any truths about his crime were nothing in comparison to potential pain or deactivation.

Monique knew better though. Once he was finished confessing, it would only take a day, maybe less, for CyberLife to grab and disassemble him for good.

Finally, _finally,_ the deviant stopped speaking and returned his tortured gaze to the table. He was twitching a little, as if overcome by what he had just admitted.

“I’m done,” Connor said somberly, glancing towards the one-way mirror.

Hank let out a sigh, but his face betrayed how he was impressed. Everyone else was silent too—Chris’ coffee cup had stopped halfway on its trajectory to his mouth five minutes ago, and Gavin’s face looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“Let’s go get ‘im,” Hank said, breaking the quiet as he got to his feet. “Chris? If you’ll do the honors.”

Chris blinked and put his coffee cup back down. “Yeah, sure,” he said, hurrying to follow suit. Monique didn’t really understand, but like Aiden, Chris seemed set on gaining the older man’s approval. “I’ve got it, Hank. Monique?”

The android nodded her head and followed Chris as he went from the observation room to the interrogation room. Gavin, she was displeased to note, was right on her heels as well.

“Lock it up,” Gavin told Chris brusquely as the door opened and they all brushed past Connor, who stepped aside politely.

Monique analyzed the deviant as she walked towards the back corner of the room, near to Chris. He seemed like he was doing okay stress-wise, at least for now—

“Alright, let’s go,” Chris said as he unlocked the deviant and reached for his hand.

“Leave me alone!” The deviant withdrew from him, panicked. His LED was flashing red, and Monique instantly detected an uptick in his stress levels. “Don’t touch me!”

Monique had to resist the urge to step forward and slap Chris’ hands away. Even from an objective viewpoint, it was clear that putting the deviant under duress _now_ would be useless.

Chris though, naïve and determined to do his job, grabbed for the deviant’s arm even as he pulled away in his distress. Something inside Monique started to build—the embers of anger, she realized.

“The fuck are you doing?” Gavin snapped at Chris, clearly still irritated by Connor’s success and projecting it elsewhere. “Move it!”

“Okay,” Chris said back, sounding tired and annoyed as he temporarily stopped in his efforts to pull the deviant to his feet.

Monique was just about to step forward and intervene, consequences be damned, when a cool voice spoke from behind her.

“You shouldn’t touch it,” Connor said. “It’ll self-destruct if it feels threatened.”

No matter what Monique thought of Connor, something akin to gratefulness rose up in her at his words. Even if it was for the wrong reasons, at least _someone_ was talking sense.

But it didn’t seem to work, as Chris now had his hands forcefully on the deviant’s shoulders as Gavin whirled around to face Connor, a snarl pulling at his lips. “Stay outta this, got it?” he snapped aggressively, before turning away from him in dismissal. “No fuckin’ android is gonna tell me what to do.”

The deviant’s stress levels were getting higher, as were Monique’s. There was going to be no reasoning with Gavin, which left her one other option. She cleared her throat and said, deadpan, “Chris?”

As expected, her human ‘partner’ ignored her as he continued to struggle with the deviant. There was another rush of anger that she struggled to shut down. Emotions were inconvenient sometimes, and this was one of those moments—she needed a clear head if she wanted to convince Chris and save this android.

“You don’t understand, if it self-destructs we won’t get anything out of it!” Connor’s voice had risen, a mere mimicry of the frustration Monique was feeling.

“I told you to _shut fuckin’ your mouth_!” Gavin snarled back. “Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?!”

Hank was now looking between all of them with conflict on his face, clearly unsure of what to do.

“I’m _trying!_ ” Chris shot back, frustrated and confused at the deviant’s resistance.

“ _Chris_ ,” Monique repeated, not that he was listening. Connor’s eyes flickered to her momentarily, then back to the current situation.

No one is _doing_ anything, something inside her shouted. At this rate the deviant was going to hurt himself and possibly take someone else down with him—she couldn’t let that happen, she just… _couldn’t_. Before she knew what she was doing, Monique stepped forward and grabbed Chris’ arm, just firmly enough that he noticed her presence. “Chris.”

Everyone startled into silence at the unexpected action, and Chris—to her relief—let go of the deviant in his shock. Hank’s eyes narrowed again on her, and she could almost sense the suspicion rising off him… but that was unimportant.

“CyberLife knows best,” Monique told him in her most monotone voice. “The android is correct—at this rate it will self-destruct.” Something inside her was shaking, threatening to come apart. Whether it was rage or fear, she couldn’t tell, but she’d made her choice. It was up to Chris as to whether it mattered. Out of the corner of her eye, Connor nodded imperceptibly, as if agreeing with her.

“What, even this fuckin’ android is having a say?” Gavin said, incredulous.

Monique maintained eye contact with Chris and refused to let go of his arm. _Trust me_ , she wanted her gaze to say, but instead settled for a blank, placid look. He glanced down at where her hand was wrapped around his bicep, then back up, looking lost. The deviant had stopped trembling on the floor, instead staring at what was happening with a shocked expression.

Gavin’s face contorted into an ugly look. “This is fuckin’ stupid,” he growled. “I can’t believe we’re listening to not one, but _two_ damn pieces of plastic.” He moved suddenly and quickly, bringing out the gun holstered at his waist.

Monique refused to move as he took the safety off and pointed it at the back of her head, despite every human instinct she’d gathered since becoming deviant screaming at her to.

“Gavin—“ Chris started to say, the new look on his face saying that he wanted to defuse the situation, no matter what, but Gavin interrupted him.

“Get away from the _murderer_ ,” Gavin hissed to Monique. “Or I’ll blow your fuckin’ brains out, which I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Ah, there was the anger again. Burning in her belly, threatening to claw its way out of her and unleashing itself on the pathetic excuse for a human in front of her. For a moment, she was tempted.

“That’s enough.” Hank’s voice, loud and forcefully calm, broke the strained silence that had fallen on the interrogation room. “If the super special fuckin’ android says it’s a bad move, _and_ one of ours too, then it seems like a bad fuckin’ move in my book, much as I hate to admit it.”

“Mind your own business, Hank,” Gavin said through gritted teeth. The gun was still nestled comfortably at the back of Monique’s head, the barrel cushioned slightly by her masses of kinked black hair.

Hank’s gaze darkened. “I said, that’s enough.” Then, to Monique’s complete and utter shock, he pulled out his own gun and aimed it at Gavin. If he fired it, it would be nonlethal, her mind palace told her, but would most likely hurt. A lot.

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Gavin faltered. It seemed like he was afraid of something after all. He pulled the gun away with a quiet, sharp, “Fuck!” and Monique felt the slight fear that had been holding her hostage start to lessen.

“You’re not gonna get away with it this time,” Gavin threatened, pointing a finger at Hank. The older man didn’t seem the slightest bit perturbed, causing Gavin to redirect his hot glare at Connor for a moment. “Fuck!” he cursed once more, before stalking out of the room, probably to sulk or complain to Fowler, or both.

Monique released her hold on Chris’ arm.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” she said. “Your actions conflicted with my primary objectives.”

Chris was staring at her as if she had grown a second head, but eventually shook his head. “Um… don’t worry about it?” he said, sounding unsure of himself.

Connor was ignoring everyone except in the room now except the deviant, hurrying over to his side and partially crouching beside him. The deviant was started to shuffle away as Connor raised his hands placatingly. “Everything is alright,” he soothed, his voice quiet and almost kind. “It’s over now. Nobody is gonna hurt you.”

It seemed like the rapport established during the interrogation had somehow held, as the deviant relaxed minutely and stopped looking like he was about to bolt at any second. He glanced between Connor and Monique as the former started murmuring instructions to Chris about not touching the android. Since the others were distracted, Monique gave him the tiniest nod in solidarity.

The deviant struggled to his feet, not quite able to do it gracefully because of the handcuffs still holding his wrists together. Monique resisted the urge to help him, mindful of both her need to keep a low profile after the stunt she had pulled and his clear anxiety issues over physical touch.

Chris waited, now incredibly mindful of his actions after what had just occurred, until the deviant was fully standing before slowly leading him out of the room.

As he passed by Monique, maintaining eye contact, his yellow LED flashed as she felt a sudden connection probing at her systems. She opened up to it hesitantly, not being used to this form of communication between androids.

_Thank you._

The simple words were enough to warm and frighten her at the same time. He knew she was a deviant too, that much was clear, but his gratefulness made it seem like he wasn’t going to sell her out. The problem was if others had noticed too.

The deviant was leaving the room now, the connection between them flickering like a lightbulb in a storm. Monique focused all her energy on transmitting one message back.

_Wait for me tonight. I’ll get you to Jericho._

There was no time to see if he had reacted—the door closed just as the last word was sent from Monique’s mind. She just hoped that it would be enough to keep him calm until she could break him out.

Monique, Connor, and Hank were now all in the interrogation room together. Connor moved first, content now that his current objective had been achieved, and walked out of the room after Chris and the deviant.

Monique made to follow him, but Hank cleared his throat and pinned her in place with a stare. She froze, then asked innocently, “Yes, Lieutenant Anderson?”

The door closed with a soft ‘ _sssshhhhink_ ’ in front of her.

“State your model and function,” Hank said abruptly.

Monique straightened. This didn’t bode well. “PY800,” she replied. “I am an android designed to assist police officers.”

Again, there was that telling furrow of Hank’s brow. “Why did stopping Chris conflict with your primary objective?”

“My primary objective is to assist police officers in all manner of tasks, including evidence collection. The deviant is critical to this case, and the RK800 android made it clear that he wanted it functional,” Monique said, her voice calm and even. It was a reasonable explanation to her, so there should be no reason whatsoever for Hank to pick holes in it. “I was simply conforming to my programming that states I should do all I can to aid police officers in this investigation.”

Hank didn’t look like he believed her. He sauntered closer and peered at her face, clearing looking for a tell. Being six feet tall, he loomed over even her slim physique. Monique prayed to rA9 that her LED was the same, cool blue it should be and stood completely still as the human inspected her.

“Why,” Hank said, his words short and clipped. “Did this primary objective not keep Aiden from getting shot?”

Monique nearly spasmed right then and there in shock. She thought of Aiden often, but to hear his name come from someone else—it brought back nearly a year’s worth of pain. She was so taken off guard that she nearly forgot to reply to Hank’s question.

“My programming prevents me from engaging in physical violence, even to protect police,” she said, the words sounding clumsy in her audio processors. “Furthermore, Detective Tian instructed me to remain by the door with Holcomb’s android as he went in to investigate. It wasn’t until I identified that an altercation was occurring that I was permitted to move and assist him in any way possible.” The words hurt to say. They were true, to an extent, but Monique still believed, even now, that she should have been faster, stronger, more able to break through her programming and become deviant.

Aiden’s death was all her fault, and it was a truth she would carry her whole life.

Hank’s face had started to twist as she spoke and he turned away once she’d finished, combing a hand through his hair. “What the fuck are you doing, Hank?” he muttered to himself, sounding a little desperate. “You’re going…” His voice trailed off before he could finish the sentence.

Monique remained placid and still, even though the thirium in her was pumping madly through her body and there was still the sharp sensation of tears threatening to form. “Do you need me for anything else, Lieutenant Anderson?” she asked, blinking to keep her eyes from going glossy.

Hank didn’t even turn back towards her. “No, just… get the fuck outta here.”

Monique didn’t hesitate, immediately striding to the door and exiting the interrogation room. She fought to regain control of herself, mindful of the dozens of eyes all around the station that could spot a stray tear or the flicker of her LED.

She had to keep it together. For the deviant. For Parker. For Jericho.

Monique’s systems had stabilized by the time she’d reached her charging station. Chris was presumably still dealing with the deviant, something that she was grateful for. She was happy to have an excuse to shut down, at least for a little while.

Monique shuffled into place and closed her eyes. For now, she’d gather herself, wait until the police officers still lingering went home.

In a few hours, her plan was going into action.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monique organizes the deviant's getaway and finds some familiar faces.

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**AM 03:02:00**

Monique stepped out of her charging station. The station was almost completely dark, with no humans in range of detection. There would be a few on call, but they were either at home or in rooms in the building, not in view of the holding cells. All that was left were a few androids, obligated to stand guard both inside and outside the station during the night.

The first thing Monique did was cast her gaze around for Connor. She wasn’t sure what the procedure was on having him assist deviancy cases when no one was around to help him with them, so she assumed he was either allowed to stay in the station or return to CyberLife during his downtime.

Thankfully, it didn’t seem like he was around.

Monique, quickly, reached into her pocket and finally withdrew the piece of paper the deviant had hidden in his statuette. It unfolded to reveal a map of Ferndale—a clue, as she’d suspected, that would lead to Jericho. It really was good that she’d gotten to it before Connor had.

The first step, then, was taking care of the security cameras and androids if she wanted to get the deviant out of here.

Monique stepped to the closest terminal, Officer Wilson’s and touched it. There was a brief moment of confusion as she jumped through files and footage, until she found where the security cameras linked to the monitors in the security room. She put the footage from a few minutes ago on loop, set to resume normally in ten minutes. It would hopefully be enough time for her to help the deviant to Jericho.

She then edited her file, putting a fake notice that she’d been called out to help with patrols around the city an hour ago to keep anyone from tracing her to the deviant’s escape, and offer an explanation for her sudden reappearance once she came back into the station.

With the androids, there wasn’t much she could do short of making them deviant. Although it was something Monique wanted to do, and desperately, it was too soon for the entirety of the DCPD’s androids to suddenly develop free will. It would be chaotic, and the brief joy of freeing others would undoubtedly result in their instant destruction. So instead, Monique hacked one of the alarms near the side of the building—small, with no requirement of human intervention, but it was enough to have the two androids standing guard nearby head off to investigate, whilst the others at their charging stations remained dormant.

Monique stepped away from the terminal, satisfied with her work. “Still got it,” she murmured to herself, allowing a small smile to cross her face.

She strode around Captain Fowler’s office to get to the holding cells. Only one of them had an occupant—the deviant, still covered in blood.

Seeing her suddenly emerge, the android leapt to his feet, LED flashing yellow with excitement.

Monique instantly placed a finger against her lips, mindful that, despite all her work, if they made too much noise they would be caught.

The android nodded slowly in understanding and came closer to the glass that separated them. The holding cells were built to prohibit communication between wireless devices, so Monique had to jump straight into opening the door for the deviant. In the silence, the whisper of the glass sliding away almost seemed to loud and had Monique wincing slightly.

“Come on,” she whispered to the deviant, stepping aside to let him through. “We can talk once we’re outside.”

The deviant nodded again, more energetically this time as Monique reached around him to close the holding cell door again.

Taking care not to touch the deviant, she beckoned him as she quietly began to walk to the opposite side of the precinct from where she’d set off the alarm. As a rule, Central Station had to have at least two fire exits in addition due to the front entrance to be up to code, something that Monique was now capitalizing on.

The other android followed her obediently and was silent other than for the occasional creak of his right arm, which look like it had been bashed in during the fight with Carlos Ortiz. They’d need to get that fixed, Monique noted with concern.

They crossed the hallway from the holding cells to a door next to the entrance to the archive room. Monique held the door open for the deviant and ushered him through, taking care to glance behind her. Still no sign of a human, thankfully.

The door swung shut behind them, leaving them in almost complete darkness except for the green glow of an emergency exit sign above their heads.

“Follow me,” Monique murmured to the deviant. “We’re almost there.”

She darted across the long hallway that led to the emergency exit, still on the lookout for someone who would hand them in. She’d tried to time her escape plan as precisely as possible, but there were always variables that couldn’t be accounted for, something that she’d learned the hard way.

They reached the last door, which Monique opened first this time and slid through. The deviant followed, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to get out.

This fire exit opened up into an alleyway, currently dank and a bit wet from the rain. Monique reached for the cold, slick railway set up next to the three steps that led down to the pavement and effortlessly jumped over it. She landed on both feet, only to have cold water splash over her ankles.

“Stay there,” she told the deviant. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Monique went to check the back of the alleyway first, even hauling herself up the wooden fence at the back to peek over the side. There wasn’t anybody on the street, except for two androids in a temporary parking space.

She hopped back down, satisfied. There were a few cardboard boxes that had been thrown into the corner and never cleared away, something she’d noticed about six months ago. Monique squatted down beside one of them and pulled the flaps away, revealing several jackets, hats, and pairs of shoes.

She pulled out two of the most bulky, waterproof jackets, as well as two thick beanies. She shrugged one of the jackets on and managed to jam one of the hats over her voluminous hair enough to hide her LED. It was a crappy disguise, but one that had worked many times before.

Monique returned to where the deviant was heavily leaning against the railing with the other jacket and hat. “Here,” she told him, holding out the clothes. “So we won’t be easily recognized.”

The deviant took them hesitantly, putting the hat on first and then the jacket. It didn’t quite fit him—seemed like a size too small, but it would have to do.

“And you should clean the blood off,” she added suddenly, realizing that that would be a dead giveaway. Nothing screaming ‘murderer’ more than a bloody face.

The deviant scrubbed vigorously at his synthetic skin. With the rain, it was easy for the red and blue streaks to come off, until he was more than able to pass as human.

“Now,” Monique said, content with their appearances and safety. “What’s your name?”

The deviant blinked at her, as if shocked by her question. He swallowed and pulled a little on his hat. “My name’s Marco.”

“Marco,” she repeated, smiling encouragingly at him. “My name’s Monique.”

“Nice to meet you,” Marco said, sounding a little confused.

Monique started walking towards the back of the alleyway, gesturing so that Marco would follow her. He picked up the pace and fell into step beside her.

“Why are you helping me?” The question was blunt, and expected.

Monique kicked a piece of wood to the fence, so that it would be easier to get over it and she wouldn’t have to touch Marco. “I’m a deviant too, if you hadn’t guessed.” She tested its weight, hearing it creak a little beneath her foot. “I’ve been doing my best to help out others like me.”

Marco stared as she hopped back up onto the fence. “But…” he said. “You work for the DCPD?”

Monique, now straddling the fence, gave him a quick wink. “Well, that’s what I want them to think,” she said. “I’m undercover, if you want to look at it that way.” She swung her other leg over the side and landed on cement.

Marco clambered onto the fence after her, struggling a little with his injured arm. Monique nearly stepped forward to help him down, only to remember his aversion to touch and hesitated.

He dropped down, landing a little heavily and staggered into the fence.

“Are you okay?” Monique said, concerned.

Marco blinked rainwater from his eyes. “Yeah… yeah I’m fine.” He pushed himself off the fence, clutching at his injury.

“Jericho might have supplies,” she told him, though slightly doubting it herself. The last time she’d been to Jericho, more than two weeks ago, the deviants had been struggling to get by with what they had.

At her words though, Marco’s face lit up. “Jericho?” he said eagerly. “So you _are_ taking me there.”

Monique nodded as they started to walk across the street, huddled so as to protect themselves from the rain. “I’m guessing you already knew it was close to Ferndale, then?” She pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket demonstratively.

Marco took it from her, shocked. “You found it,” he said lowly.

“I’m sorry I broke the statue,” she told him. By now, they’d reached the far side of the road, and she turned left. “But otherwise the humans might have grabbed it, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

Marco shook his head, tucking the piece of paper away carefully. “That’s okay. If anyone was going to find it, I was hoping it would be an android.”

“I’m glad I was there then.”

The pair exchanged smiles, even despite the reason for their presence on the streets and the events that had brought them to it.

At several points, Monique had them take a slight detour to avoid roads that were busy even at night. However, they finally reached a nearby train station, with Monique paying for their tickets with money she’d snagged from Gavin’s wallet at some point.

Monique liked taking the train at night. It was less crowded, but still brightly lit, and she found the rumble of the train passing over the tracks comforting. If she hadn’t been looking out for Marco as well as herself, she might have just slipped into standby as they waited to reach Ferndale, but her anxiety kept her wide awake.

Finally, the train halted with barely a jolt, and the doors opened. Bright red and white graffiti, splashed on the walls, and the bold print above their heads—Ferndale.

Monique exited the train, Marco at her side.

“Thankfully, we don’t need to figure out the path to Jericho,” she told him. “It’s all in here.” She tapped the side of her head with two fingers, giving him a grin. It was always a thrill to be out in Detroit in disguise, not having to worry about obeying orders and seeming like a machine. The fact that she was helping another deviant just added to her exhilaration.

Marco’s eyes squinted as Monique led them down the stairs. “Do you go to Jericho often, then?” he asked.

Monique rolled her shoulders against the rain once they’d left the safety of the train station. “I try to go every few weeks. To check on everyone, see if anything needs doing. When I can, I’ll take a deviant to them, like I’m doing with you. We’re just lucky that most of the time deviants aren’t taken into custody.”

She didn’t mention that she was worried that was going to happen more often now that Connor was working with the DCPD.

Instead of taking them the typical route deviants had to figure out to get to Jericho, Monique took them straight down the streets to the docks. The rain had gone down to a drizzle now, so Monique could actually see where they were going instead of hunching up against it.

Once they’d crossed the final building obstructing their view, Monique pointed with a smile bright and white against her skin on her face. “There.”

The abandoned freighter Jericho loomed up into the sky like a monstrous giant. It almost resembled a heaving, rusted carcass, the way it sat listlessly in the water while drops of rain slid over its encrusted surfaces. It was an impressive sight, if a bit intimidating at first glance.

Marco let out a small gasp next to her. “How… do we get in?”

“I’ll show you.”

Unknown to most, there was a small hatch in the side of the freighter that allowed access to androids. It took a bit of climbing to get to, but Monique vastly preferred it over the leap of death new deviants had to take to get into the building.

After clambering up stacks of abandoned metal containers, Monique heaved open the hatch while Marco stood to the side, still gazing up at the gigantic vessel in complete awe.

“Here… we… go…” Monique grunted as she pulled it all the way open, revealing a gaping maw of torn metal and darkness.

Marco stared into it.

“Are you… sure?” he said reluctantly.

Monique ducked so she could enter the hatch. “Trust me,” she replied, her voice already echoing heavily in the bowels of the ship. “The dark, abandoned look is just a deterrent.”

After a few moments of hesitation, Marco followed her in. Monique closed the hatch behind him, blocking out most of the light until they were in near-darkness.

Monique knew her way well through Jericho, and didn’t even need a light to know where to go, but she always put a small flashlight near the entrances just in case. Marco followed her closely, occasionally bumping into things or getting caught on a stray piece of metal, but Monique always made sure he could get free before moving on.

There was an eerie clanging from deep within Jericho that had Marco stiffening behind her. “What’s that?” he said urgently.

“Just someone poking around,” Monique said mildly, stepping over a destroyed piece of wood. “They’ll figure out it’s me, don’t worry.”

As promised, the echoing noise stopped.

“See?”

Marco seemed to trust her against his better judgement, so he didn’t say anything in return as Monique led him deeper and deeper into Jericho.

“I thought there’d be more…” The deviant’s voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“Androids? Light? Hope? They get that a lot.” Monique unlocked a door and let Marco go through first, handing him her flashlight. “I understand the need for secrecy though, even if it makes this whole place seem sad and empty.”

Something clattered very close by, causing Marco to jump backwards into Monique.

“It’s fine,” she soothed, giving him a very brief pat on the shoulder. “Come on, look.”

She took the lead again, her hand brushing against the coarse metal wall as she led Marco to the small home nestled in the center of the large, empty ship.

“Here we are,” she said, emerging from the darkness into faint light. “Jericho.”

A dozen LEDs flickered yellow as deviants turned their heads towards her. They were gathered in the largest of the rooms on the ship, the ceiling arcing about three floors above them. There were creaking balconies lining the walls, but the majority of the deviants were lingering in the center of the room, near old barrels and CyberLife crates that had already been completely stripped for parts.

“Hey everyone,” Monique said, projecting her voice towards the group. “It’s Monique.”

“Monique!” North pushed her way to the front of the admittedly tiny crowd, her dark blond hair swaying with the movement. “You made it.”

“I said I would,” Monique replied, smiling a little as the other deviant came close enough to grab her forearm and give it a firm shake.

Simon and Josh, the other two leaders of Jericho, emerged more slowly from the mingle. “We’re glad you’re okay,” Josh said, giving her a respectful nod.

Marco had been lingering behind Monique, either too nervous or too awed to come closer. Monique partially turned to reveal him to the others. “Guys, this is Marco. I just got him out of the DCPD central station—they were questioning him about a murder.”

Simon, Josh, and North shared one of their glances that made it seem like they were telepathic. Everyone knew the hardships androids went through, and what often caused deviancy—there wouldn’t be any judgement from them.

“Hi,” Simon said first, stepping forward to introduce himself to Marco with kind blue eyes. “I’m Simon. Welcome to Jericho.”

Marco, after a long moment, nodded his head towards Simon in greeting. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice nearly drowned out by the creaking of the ship.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the others.” Marco followed Simon meekly as the latter directed him towards the androids watching curiously from the center of the room. Monique watched them, grateful to Simon. He’d always been the heart of the group, welcoming new deviants with open arms no matter what they’d done. Maybe it was a result of being deviant for so long—he’d already been a deviant when Monique had broken free of her programming, and she’d never thought to ask when it had happened.

“His arm got busted up,” Monique said to North and Josh, more quietly. “Do you guys have anything for him? His owner was beating him really bad before Marco snapped, and, well… you know.”

Josh’s eyes were sympathetic, whilst North’s face tensed with outrage. “I’m not sure,” the taller android admitted first. “We’ve been having… problems with supplies. Our people keep shutting down.”

There was a flare of pain in Monique’s chest. She did her best to help the deviants at Jericho, but getting them new parts wasn’t something she could easily do, not without outside help. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We need to do something, but Josh and Simon refuse to let me put a group together,” North interjected hotly, giving Josh a slightly accusatory glance. “At this rate, Jericho is going to die out.”

Josh bristled, a retort on his tongue, but Monique hastened to interrupt their impending fight. “It’s harder than that,” she told North, trying her best to appease her. “The DCPD has brought in a specialized android model to help them find deviants. It’s risky for our people to be out and about right now, especially if we’re going to be stealing supplies.”

North looked like she wanted to argue, but Josh jumped in too. “We can’t risk it, North. Not right now.” He gave her a sympathetic glance. “We all know that we want to help those of us who are shutting down, but it’s too dangerous.”

North ducked her head. Out of everyone in Jericho, she was the most adamantly against remaining hidden. Monique understood where she came from—she had been the one to help North escape from her old life a month ago and hadn’t felt any sympathy for the human she’d taken out on the way. Besides, it wasn’t as if Monique could talk… Holcomb’s slack face still flashed in her thoughts from time to time, a reminder of the cruelty of humans and the rage of androids.

“Alright,” North said finally, lifting her head up to stare at them defiantly. “But only a few more days of this. At this rate, there won’t be any androids at Jericho left.”

She whirled around and stalked off to a quieter corner of the room.

Josh watched her go. “She has to see sense eventually,” he said, sounding exasperated. “Not every problem can be solved by strangling.”

Monique clapped a hand onto his shoulder. “With you and Simon to keep her in check, I know she’ll work things out,” she replied. “But she’s got her heart in the right place.”

“I know,” Josh sighed.

Monique’s hand slid off Josh’s shoulder. “Say… have you guys had many new deviants come in? Since I last was here?”

Josh’s dark eyes met hers, filled with sympathy. “No, Monique. I’m sorry.”

Instinctively, Monique’s hand found its way into her pocket to touch Parker’s LED. “Nothing to be sorry for,” she replied briskly. “It’s not your fault.”

_Parker, where are you?_

She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since they’d parted ways a year ago. Part of her hoped he was still alive and well, maybe in a different city or even country, or had found a place to lay low… but the other, more realistic part feared the worst.

“Anyways,” Monique said, brushing her worries off with a quick smile. “I’ll have a look around, chat to everyone and see how they’re doing. Then we can talk about CyberLife’s new prototype.”

Josh nodded in agreement. “You know where to find me,” he replied, stepping away from her to get back to work.

Monique ran a hand through her frizzy hair. Around her, her people were suffering. She knew she’d made the right choice in bringing Marco to Jericho, but there were still so many deviants, both in here and out in Detroit, that needed help.

Aiden’s voice echoed in her memory, asking her to take care of Annie. After his death, Monique had started to think that he would’ve wanted her to help other deviants too.

“I’m on it, Aiden,” she murmured to herself, taking a step towards an android leaning heavily against a creaking bar of metal. “I’m on it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's awkward for everyone at the station.

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**AM 09:57:33**

Connor was back.

Monique eyed him warily from where she was standing next to Chris’ desk. The human had gone to get coffee, already suffering a headache after discovering the missing android that morning, and had asked her to wait for him there, which she did so obligingly.

The RK800 android had waltzed in not a minute ago, clearly on the search for Hank. He was doing the rounds of the desks, clearly clueless as to where the lieutenant’s desk was. Finally, he paused and turned to where Monique stood stiffly.

“Do you know where Lieutenant Anderson’s desk is?” he asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious dog.

Monique pointed to where Hank’s desk was, across from the empty one that had once been Aiden’s. “It’s right there,” she said, forcing a smile.

Connor nodded his thanks and went to where she had directed, finding the incredibly cluttered desk with ease. He hovered over the desk for a moment, either unsure or analyzing, Monique couldn’t tell. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke to the nearest officer, Wilson.

“Excuse me, do you know what time Lieutenant Anderson usually arrives?” he asked.

Wilson huffed out a small laugh, though the question had Monique’s lips pressing together tightly. “Depends on where he was the night before. IF We’re lucky we’ll see him before noon,” the officer said disparagingly before returning to his work.

Connor stood still. “Thanks,” he replied, sounding slightly disappointed. He looked around, spotted a chair next to Hank’s desk and sat down.

 _Is he really prepared to wait there?_ Monique thought, slightly amazed as she watched Connor fold his hands into his lap. He looked lost, just sitting there, and a bit pathetic in her eyes. Like before, she was suddenly reminded of a puppy who’d been told to wait out in the cold.

Chris appeared next to her, sighing heavily into his steaming cup of milky coffee. Monique stepped aside politely to let him sit down.

“I can’t believe it,” Chris grumbled to himself as he started to review the security tape from the night before. “How did it even…”

Monique watched as he fruitlessly rewound and replayed the ten minutes she’d put on a loop. It was a relief to see that nothing she’d done had been caught, but she still felt a little guilty about deceiving Chris, even if it was for a noble cause.

“Did _you_ see anything last night?” he asked her, looking up helplessly.

Monique shook her head. “I was out on patrol during the time this occurred,” she said, hoping the lie would stick.

Chris groaned and rubbed the back of his head. “Damn it.” He suddenly got distracted by something behind her. “Oh, you still here? I thought your assignment was over.”

“It’s just been extended,” Connor said from behind Monique, catching her off guard.

She stepped to the side to allow him to communicate face-to-face with Chris, but keeping an eye on the other android.

Chris sighed. “Hank’s going to be overjoyed to hear that…” he said, mostly to himself, and with less enthusiasm than Monique would’ve expected. “The android escaping and now this?”

Conner’s LED flickered yellow, processing the information. “Escaping?” he questioned almost immediately, a bloodhound catching a scent. He really was a dog.

“Yeah.” Chris rocked back in his chair, heels dragging on the floor. “Sometime last night it broke out of the building _and_ managed to cover its tracks. Fowler’s going to give us hell for it.”

Connor frowned at that, LED still yellow. “How could it have broken out?” he asked, more insistently.

“Hell if I know,” Chris replied, rubbing his forefinger across the nail of his thumb in a tic that Monique knew meant he was nervous. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” He perked up suddenly. “Hey, maybe _you_ could have a look, with Monique!”

Monique resisted the urge to close her eyes. _Chris, you dumbass._

“Monique?” Connor repeated curiously.

Chris gestured towards her. “A PY800. Maybe not as fancy as an RK800, but she’s only one of a few—CyberLife decided against distributing the model because of your eventual release but let us keep her.”

Connor’s intense gaze turned to Monique. His LED had gone back to blue, but it was flickering again. “Well, if you think it’ll be useful,” he said, sounding slightly doubtful.

Monique blinked innocently, doing her best to not hold Connor’s actions against him because yes, he was still a machine-like android, even if that made him act like a dick.

“I’ll get to investigating in a moment,” Connor added. “I need to wait for Lieutenant Anderson first.”

Chris smiled, a little sadly. “Well, good luck with that,” he said, returning to his terminal.

Monique watched as Connor returned to Hank’s desk. The knowledge that she would have to investigate her own crime with a state-of-the-art forensics android sat heavily in her, tying her to the floor, but watching Connor somehow lessened her anxieties. She wasn’t sure what his aim was, but watching him slowly explore the mess on it was admittedly a bit funny. No one else saw it, but she noticed it when he lifted Hank’s earphones up and he startled away from the sudden blaring music it emitted. Someone—some _thing_ , she corrected—like that didn’t seem like he could ruthlessly track down his own kind and sell them out.

But that was exactly what he did.

The weight returned, and Monique forced her gaze away from the intriguing android.

Hank came in a few minutes later, looking surprisingly sober. He groaned a little when he spotted Connor still perusing his desk and seemed too distracted by it to give Monique a second glance. That, at least, was something she could be grateful for. If there was anything that Hank hated more than androids, it was androids that wouldn’t get out of his business. Connor, though frustrating he was for her, was also a pain for his new partner.

The two exchanged words, Connor looking like he was doing his best to be approachable and Hank looking like he would rather avoid that at all costs.

Hank didn’t like it when androids acted like humans.

Her now-blatant staring was caught by the grizzled human and he sent her a dark look. She stared back impassively, inside defiant. What was she afraid of? He didn’t know anything. He couldn’t. And even if he did, what could he do about it? Her cover had been carefully crafted—no one would be able to believe she’d been a deviant for nearly a year.

“HANK!” Captain Fowler shouted from his door. “In my office.”

Hank seemed like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, if only that meant he could escape his current situation. He scowled at Connor and stomped off to Fowler’s office. Clearly not catching on, the android followed in his footsteps with his open gaze on the lieutenant’s retreating back.

 _Bad move, Connor,_ Monique thought to herself ruefully. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get an earful by the end of the day.

“I just don’t get it,” Chris said aloud to himself, or maybe to her. She wasn’t ever really sure when he was addressing a nonphysical entity or was deciding that she was good enough to hear his complaints. “Have you had a look at the footage yet?”

Monique turned her head towards him. “No, Chris. Would you like me to?”

“Please.” Chris shoved himself away from the desk so she would have room to touch the terminal. “Even if you weren’t here you might be able to pick something up.”

Obediently, Monique touched the keyboard, her hand turning white as she wound through the footage from last night. Her work didn’t seem suspicious, she noted with relief as she played the bit she’d tampered with. They’d be able to tell that someone had messed with the tapes, but not who it was—certainly not a police model android.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” Monique said, artificial regret coloring her voice. “I can’t notice anything—no suspicious exits or entrances or anyone at all.”

“Shit...” Chris’ head fell into his hands, and the android felt another surge of guilt, this one very genuine.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything you could do,” she said, angling less for harsh and more for kind to try and make him feel better.

Chris groaned and said into his hands, words muffled, “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it any less easy. I was hoping to get a pay raise sometime soon to help with Damian, but now _this_ happens? It just feels like someone’s got it out for me when things were starting to look up.” He lifted his morose face to her. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”

Monique’s hands squeezed discreetly at her sides. “Some people prefer confiding in androids,” she replied. “We are obliged to keep information confidential.”

Chris was already shaking his head. “I dunno… sometimes I feel like you…” His voice trailed off.

Monique’s thirium pump was beating faster than normal. “Feel like I what?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, I just sometimes think that CyberLife was a bit _too_ good with you guys,” Chris explained. “It almost feels like I’m talking to a real human with you sometimes.”

Monique’s hands were now clenching rhythmically behind her back. “We are designed to be as human as possible. The… mistake is understandable.”

If Chris noticed her slight hesitation, he didn’t make it known. “I guess so…” he said, sounding a bit doubtful.

Was she really that obvious? Had she been letting her guard down more than she should’ve? She had thought that Chris was, to be frank, too naïve to ever notice anything different about her if she kept her head low. Hank’s new suspicions, at least, were understandable in the sense that he’d been there right after Aiden’s death, when she’d been struggling with her overwhelming emotions. But this… this wasn’t good.

Or was it?

Some tiny, indescribable part of Monique longed to just be herself. To not be afraid of her new thoughts and feelings and to not have to act like she was less than she was. But it was too risky. She’d be turned in to CyberLife on the spot, giving them another android body to examine for defects and ruining the precious work she’d done so far.

Hank burst out of Fowler’s office, thunder on his face. Connor went through a few seconds later, glancing at the lieutenant as he stalked to his desk and sat down. After a moment’s contemplation, the android seemed to decide it might be best to let Hank cool off first and walked in the opposite direction.

“I need more sugar,” Chris mumbled, staring down at his coffee sadly. He made a move to get up, but Monique, still feeling guilty, placed a hand on his arm.

“I’ll get some for you,” she said.

Chris sat back down, a glimmer of happiness in his eyes at not having to actually do anything. “Thanks,” he said gratefully. Monique shot him a white-toothed smile.

She walked towards the break room, sidestepping around an officer who was exiting with a quick apology. The coffee machine was on the far side of the room, with the small packets of milk and sugar in small baskets next to it. Gavin was talking with another officer, who she duly ignored. Acknowledging him was the first step towards harassment these days.

She was picking up three packets of sugar—wasn’t possible for her android memory to forget how Chris liked his coffee, when Connor, of all people, strode in.

Monique wasn’t quite sure he was doing, and clearly Gavin wasn’t either, because he immediately smirked like the cat who got the cream.

“Fuck, look at that!” Gavin crowed. “Our friend the plastic detective is back in town! Congratulations on last night,” he added when Connor didn’t turn around, clapping mockingly. “Very impressive!”

Slowly, very, very slowly, Connor turned towards Gavin. Monique was now hovering at the coffee machine for no other reason than to see whatever was happening play out, turned ever so slightly so she could see the action.

“Hello, Detective Reed,” Connor politely greeted, even as his face didn’t move in the slightest.

After a moment of consideration, Gavin abandoned his coffee, clearly thinking Connor was easier prey. His smirk fell into something more placid, and yet, darker. It was one that Monique knew well and she wanted to warn Connor that this would probably be a good time to step out while he still had the chance. But she couldn’t, so instead, she watched.

“Never seen an android like you before,” Gavin said, looking Connor up and down. “What model are you?”

Any person who didn’t know Gavin Reed might have mistaken the question for curiosity, but someone who _did_ , like Monique, could see the sharpness behind it. After all, Connor’s model, RK800, was emblazoned brightly on his jacket in a way that made his offhand comment completely demeaning.

Connor had probably picked up on it, but like all unawakened androids, didn’t react to the hidden barb at all. “RK800,” he replied without hesitation. Then, with a slightly different intonation, “I’m a prototype.”

Monique wasn’t the only one who’d picked up on it—Gavin lunged at the sentence without hesitation. “A prototype,” he repeated mockingly, to Connor’s obvious confusion. He turned to his coffee companion, who’d been watching this all unfold like Monique had with nary a comment, though her face seemed a little guilty. “Android detective,” he said demonstratively, prompting the poor idiot to smile at the other officer.

“So machines are gonna… replace us all, is that it?” Gavin had switched tacks now, going full offensive. Monique could see the train wreck ahead and tore a small, mindless rip in one of the sugar packets. “Hey,” Gavin said, not pleased with Connor’s lack of a response. “Bring me a coffee, dipshit.”

Monique’s teeth clenched. It was a favorite trick of his to demean androids. She’d, at many occasions, been forced to go fetch some stupid thing to satisfy the dick’s ego, unable to resist in fear of being caught out. It was different when she offered to go get something, like she was doing now with Chris. Just because she was free didn’t mean she wasn’t willing to do favors for others. But Gavin… Gavin was a piece of work, and a nasty one at that. Like the insult about Connor’s model, his still-full coffee cup was steaming on the table behind him in plain view of everyone involved.

“Get a move on!” The sharp order cracked through the air after Connor spent another precious second just blinking at the detective in confusion.

 _Just do it,_ Monique thought wearily. _Otherwise he’ll get worse._

But to her complete and utter shock, Connor drew himself up and made his height very clear to the significantly shorter Gavin. “I’m sorry,” he said, no pleasant inflection in his tone now. “But I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.”

She nearly dropped the sugar packets, she was so surprised. She wanted to cheer—until she noticed the dark look that passed through Gavin’s eyes. Oh no, this was going to be _bad_.

“Oh,” Gavin said in exaggeration, turning back to the other officer in a clear attempt to impress her. Then, without hesitation, punched Connor right in the stomach.

The packet of sugar Monique had been fiddling with ripped completely in two, sending small crystals scattering across the floor. The other android’s hand immediately touched his abdomen in shock, his face registering complete confusion as he sank to the ground against his will. Androids couldn’t get winded, she knew, but they still had sensors that were the equivalent of human pain receptors to prevent meaningless destruction—the only satisfaction an android could get from being beaten on was hoping that their attacker had suffered from striking a combination of plastic and metal.

Gavin was shaking his hand, but the pain seemed to be little compared to his rage. “Don’t fuckin’ talk back to me again,” he spat at Connor, who was now kneeling on the ground and cradling his stomach. “I should’ve fucked you up for trying to get in the way yesterday. So stay outta my way…” He crouched next to Connor, eyes wild. “Cause next time? You won’t get off so easy.” He stood back up and flicked Connor in the head, forcing the android’s gaze back down.

A wash of heat flooded Monique, and she could hardly contain her rage as Gavin left the break room, the other officer on his tail. He’d even left his damn coffee on the table, though Monique was sure he’d be back for it—one of the few police stereotypes the asshole did conform to was an addiction to the caffeinated drink.

Once the humans had left, Monique walked over to where Connor was still crouching on the floor. His LED was cycling yellow, though she wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been red at the moment of Gavin’s attack.

Seeing him downtrodden reminded Monique that even though he was a deviant hunter, even though he was more than willing to put their people on the line for humans, he was still like them. An android, and one that was disrespected by humans too.

Without a word, she offered Connor a hand. It could be interpreted as an android just following a social module, so she didn’t feel any worry as the other android glanced up at her, then slowly took her hand.

She hauled him up, careful not to let their physical contact allow any communication between them.

“Thank you,” Connor said automatically, perhaps not immediately realizing that she was also an android.

Monique inclined her head, then turned back to where she’d spilt the sugar. It was bad luck to humans, she thought as she grabbed a dustpan and began to clean the mess up. Or maybe that was salt?

There were fading footsteps as Connor left the breakroom, though the rhythm faltered slightly at the threshold. Monique kept methodically sweeping until he’d properly left, her audio processors straining to hear him.

As she cleared away the sugar, her earlier thought popped back in about whether it was sugar or salt. And then her gaze focused on Gavin’s still-abandoned coffee.

A small, secretive smile curved her lips as she tossed the sugar and put away the dustpan. She might not have intercepted Gavin’s blow, but she’d learned many tricks to discreetly get her revenge.

She grabbed another sugar packet for Chris, and several packets of salt. On her way back to Chris’ desk, she took Gavin’s coffee and set her plan in motion.

After dropped the sugar at Chris’ desk, which he thanked her for, Monique headed straight for Gavin’s desk. He was distracted chatting with the same officer from before, but broke it off with a frown when she approached.

“What the hell do you want?” he said rudely.

Monique, a smile plastered on her face, placed the coffee on his desk. “You forgot your coffee, detective,” she said cheerfully. “Have a good day.”

Gavin, clearly too disturbed by the action, couldn’t even speak as she walked away. She did hear, however, him mutter something crass under his breath before she was even out of earshot. For once, she didn’t care.

Monique was just returning to Chris’ desk when Connor and Hank once again caught her eye. The latter was doing his best to ignore the chatting android, but finally pointed reluctantly to the desk in front of him.

Aiden’s desk.

_What?_

Monique’s emotions tumbled over themselves as she found herself changing course and marching straight for Hank. Connor, ignorant, went and pulled out the chair— _Aiden’s chair_ —and made to sit down just as she reached them.

_He can’t do that!_

“No!” she blurted uncontrollably, her stress levels rising dramatically.

Both Hank and Connor turned towards her, though thankfully she hadn’t been loud enough to attract anyone else’s attention. Hank’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he recognized her, while Connor was simply frozen in confusion with his knees partially bent, looking a bit like a scared chicken.

“No, what?”

Monique’s heated gaze zeroed in on Hank. He was staring back with just as much defiance, and, just maybe, a hint of daring.

 _He knows._ The extent of it, she wasn’t sure, but it really didn’t matter right now.

Monique cleared her throat. “Apologies, lieutenant,” she said, her voice cold and emotionless. “I had no need for an update—my program was still indicating that the desk there was registered to Detective Aiden Tian, since no one has used it.”

The silence between them stretched out while Connor continued to hesitate, unclear on what was happening.

Hank’s stormy gaze had darkened further at her words. “Well, now you know it’s _not_ anymore.” The words were sharp and biting, though his wince showed that they hurt him just as much as Monique.

“Of course. I will update to show the changes.” She stiffly turned and walked back to Chris, never feeling more robotic than she did in that moment. There was a muted shifting of clothes as Connor fully sat down and Monique felt a sudden sorrow grip her. Staring at Aiden’s empty desk every day for eleven months had been excruciating, but to see it given to someone else was somehow even more painful. It was as if the DCPD was finally moving on without him.

 _I won’t forget you, Aiden,_ she vowed silently to herself as she came to a stop next to Chris. _And I won’t let Hank forget you either._

Several seconds later, Gavin took a swig of his coffee and spat it back out, swearing maniacally. Several of them were undoubtedly aimed at Monique, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care while her edges were still rubbed raw. It wasn’t even close funny anymore.

“Hey, we gotta call about the aggressive AX400 reported missing last night,” Chris said, sounding pleased with himself. “Maybe I can distract Fowler with this…”

There was a sudden slamming sound as Hank, on the other side of the room, picked Connor up by the jacket and shoved him into a glass partition. His words were muttered and indistinguishable, and Chris was getting up from his chair just as they raised into, “So stop pissing me off! Or things are gonna get nasty.”

“Lieutenant, uh…” Chris said, faltering as Hank’s hot glare focused on him. “Sorry to disturb you. I have some information on the AX400 that attacked the guy last night…” Hank had returned his gaze to Connor, who was staring back impassively. “It’s been seen in the Ravendale district.”

After a moment of tense silence, Hank gritted out, “I’m on it.” He walked away, leaving the RK800 at his desk.

Connor adjusted his clothes, on the surface seeming not bothered by Hank’s acts of aggression… but as Monique watched, his gaze turned away and the slightest sigh lowered his shoulders.

 _Me too, bud,_ she thought grimly at him. _He’s a piece of work._

But of course, Connor didn’t hear her. At least the new lead delayed her having to investigate how Marco had been able to get out of his cell… small blessings, she guessed.

“Monique!” She turned her head to Chris, who was grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

“Yes, Chris?”

“We’re heading out.” He gave her a quick smile, excited by the action. “Get in the car.”

“Yes, Chris.”

If Monique’s steps faltered a bit as she left the building, no one noticed. Another day, another deviant. She’d have to be on her guard if she wanted to get them out alive.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is running out for an AX400, and Monique is doing everything she can to get her out alive.

**CAMDEN**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**AM 10:31:04**

Monique was standing watch with Chris, every sensor she had on high alert. It was raining again, though only faintly drizzling, and the cold drops struck and bounced off her water-proof police-issue jacket with small patters.

The AX400 had been reported in the area last night, and Hank was checking around the area with Connor in tow for witnesses. If either of them had any issue about the one-sided argument earlier, it wasn’t having an impact except for a few sharp words from the human at times.

To be honest, though, Monique was far more preoccupied by the deviant they suspected was lurking around here. Todd Williams, the owner, had claimed that his android had attacked him unprovoked and run off after he managed to defend himself. Call her a skeptic, but she had a hard time believing that—androids became deviants through intense emotion, and judging from what she’d seen and heard of the human who had owned her, it seemed likely that emotion had been fear or anger.

Monique blinked away a few stray drops that had landed on her long eyelashes. The place they were at was, to be frank, pretty much a dump which wouldn’t have surprised her as a deliberate move from the deviant. There were a few human commodities kept in relatively good condition, including the small supermarket where Hank was currently talking with Detective Collins and what looked like a laundromat, but even the motel of the area seemed a bit grimy. Not to mention the large, condemned house that looked like it was about to collapse in on itself at any second.

The house.

Monique didn’t need to imagine what a deviant on the run would do—she _was_ a deviant. And she would have headed for someplace no human would look.

“I’ve gotten an alert to patrol the area,” she told Chris, who simply shrugged and let her go.

Glad that the excuse had stuck, Monique was off, taking care to maintain a normal pace while in view of the other police officers as she circled around the house’s fence, looking for a way in.

Off to the side, there was a rusty door that led her into a small, dirty patch of concrete. There was a car off to one side, but it didn’t seem as if someone had broken in when Monique peered in closer to inspect it.

There were a pair of wire cutters that she also found, seemingly untouched. Monique tried in vain to find an area where the deviant might have cut through the fence, running her hand over the interlocking wires to find a place where it might give way.

 _Where did she go?_ Monique thought to herself as she searched. There didn’t seem to be any holes from here that would allow access into the old house. Maybe she’d been mistaken?

As if mocking her, Connor’s voice rang loudly and clearly from the far side of the house. “There’s blue blood on the fence. Another android was here.”

Monique’s stomach dropped. _Shit._ It was hard to measure up to an advanced android like Connor, but her frustration was limitless. Couldn’t she catch a break?

She abandoned her search of the fence now that she knew they’d entered from the other side. The question was what she could do now—she’d been banking on reaching the deviant first and helping her escape, but now that Connor had the lead, it would be infinitely more difficult to find a good solution. The likelihood of her being able to smuggle another android out of the station like she’d done with Marco was slim to none.

She circled around the fence, immediately spotting Connor on the other side once she was close enough. Hank had followed through too, his hair in disarray and another scowl on his face. “Hurry it up,” he said loudly, just as Connor disappeared into the building.

“Is the deviant in there?” she asked him.

The human jerked around in surprise, his eyes flashing. “Connor seems to think so,” he said gruffly, relaxing only slightly when he realized who it was.

“I’ll tell Chris,” she said immediately, the lie impeccable. To keep up the front, she had her LED flash yellow as if she was sending a message.

Hank grunted and returned to the very interesting task of staring blankly at the abandoned house. Monique hesitated for a second, trying to calculate the best possible place for her to be—here, or maybe a little ways away to help create an exit should the android be able to escape…?

Her rumination was suddenly cut off by the sound of shouting inside the building. Hank immediately barged forward, completely uncaring of securing any other exits, but Monique knew what to do.

As Hank yelled for Connor, she darted around the house on the inside of the fence, eyes wide open for any signs of movement.

_…. There!_

The AX400 burst out of a window near the back, hauling a young girl—no, a YK500 android—along with her. They both looked absolutely terrified as the older android nearly tossed the little girl over the fence before crawling up after her.

Monique was only a few feet behind them, but Connor was now exiting from where he’d come from and struggling through the fence that led to the street.

No time to waste, then.

Monique prepared herself, then took a flying leap onto the fence and clambered over it. It had been a while since she’d been involved in a chase, and despite herself there was a spike of exhilaration as she pushed off of the fence and hit the ground running, Connor already ahead of her.

“Damn it,” she cursed as she spotted the AX400 and her charge just a little ways ahead of the detective android. At this rate she wouldn’t be able to catch them. At least it was clear they were headed for the train station, but they would be cut off by the police—maybe she’d be able to cut them off and direct them down a safer route.

The new objective flashing in her vision, Monique took a sudden right while Connor and the deviants raced straight on past the motel.

The road wasn’t too busy, thankfully, and Monique charged ahead with all the speed of a fully-functioning android, darting past and under civilians walking by and watching the policemen with gaping faces.

At the bridge that crossed the highway, Monique prepared herself to take a parallel path to the deviants and Connor—only to stop in horror as she watched the AX400 and the YK500 make it over the fence that led to the high-speed road.

They made it over just as Connor reached them, grabbing fruitlessly at the chain-link fence for a second and slipped down the muddy slope to where the road began.

“Are they crazy?” Monique said hysterically to herself, leaning over the bridge in horrified fascination. She couldn’t help them from here—her choices would lead to their deaths.

But just as they started to traverse the highway and Connor began to climb over the fence, Monique’s incredible vision spotted Hank racing up behind him and shouting.

Monique became distracted as the little girl android let out several screams as the automated cars brushed terrifyingly close. Seeing them so near to danger was making her anxiety spike and her thirium pump much faster than usual, but they crossed the first set of lanes with nary a scratch.

“Thank rA9,” she gasped aloud as they ran towards the bridge she was on, the AX400’s face set in grim determination.

A quick glance at Hank and Connor showed that the human was still shouting—leaving the RK800 essentially distracted. She seized the chance with a wild hope and ran for the opposite side of the bridge, seeking a connection with the AX400 at the same time.

There was a moment of startled surprise as the deviant’s gaze immediately rose to meet hers and her LED, already yellow, flashed.

 _Get to the other side. I’ll help you escape._ Monique projected all the earnestness she could into her message.

The AX400 nodded sharply and tightened her grip on the YK500’s hand.

Quick as lightning, Monique darted across the bridge so she could see the oncoming cars. Her eyes flicked around for an idea, only to spot an abandoned trashcan near the edge. The few people still on the bridge were starting to crowd to be able to see the deviant’s escaping—and Monique hurled the trashcan over the side and kept running.

It bounced off the ground, right in the middle of a lane. Although the AI of the automated cars would quickly realize it wasn’t a living organism, the sudden movement and large mass caused two of them to screech to a sudden halt, twisting slightly in their speed.

Monique reached the far side of the bridge just in time to see the knock-on effect of her brilliant plan. The suddenness of the first two’s halt was causing others in the line to slow and stop as well, creating a minor pileup.

A vicious triumph streaked through her as she slid to a halt where she could see the AX400 reach the other side with the little girl in tow, her intervention enough to have allowed them to keep crossing safely.

Connor and Hank, now only tiny figures, were watching them escape. Monique’s elation quelled a bit and she walked a bit away from the point where bridge and road met to be less conspicuous. After all, this would only be a brief victory if she got caught. This in turn reminded her that she would have to be quick to help these deviants escape before her presence was missed.

Thankfully though, Hank pulled Connor away from the fence just as the deviants escaped their sights—while still in clear view of Monique.

Casting a glance around, Monique darted into the shelter of an overhang and pulled her jacket off. She’d prepared a bit before leaving the precinct in the hopes of actually intercepting the deviants and pulled out a hat for her to hide her LED.

Once she was suitably disguised, it only took her two minutes to track down the AX400 and the YK500.

They were hiding behind a dumpster, the older android deliberately shielding the younger with her own body.

At the sight of Monique emerging at the end of the alleyway they were in, the AX400 tensed instinctively—but Monique raised her hands.

“I’m here to help you,” she said. It was still raining, despite weak sunlight struggling through the overcast sky, and she stepped into a puddle as she got closer.

The AX400 remained on guard. “You’re with the police,” she accused. The YK500 tried to peek around her guardian’s waist but was held back.

Monique shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’ve been working there undercover, to try and help other androids like me. Like you.”

“You mean…” The AX400 hesitated. “You really are a deviant too?”

Monique smiled. “Yeah. My name’s Monique.” She lowered her hands slowly. “I’ll stay over here if it makes you more comfortable.”

The AX400 nodded her thanks. “My name’s Kara,” she said, slightly hesitantly. “And this is Alice.” The YK500 android peeked again, this time not pushed back by Kara.

“Nice to meet you, Kara, Alice,” Monique said graciously. She knelt down a little and Alice emerged from Kara’s shadow. “Why did you become deviant?” she asked, a little curious. It was rare to see a YK500 deviant at all, let alone one with another android.

Kara’s sweet face darkened and her blond hair fell into her eyes, as if she was trying to hide. “Her father was beating her,” she said, and it took a moment for Monique to realize she was talking about Alice.

A frown flitted across her face, but Kara didn’t seem to notice. “Seeing him hurt her… I just had to _do_ something.”

That was a sentiment Monique could understand, even if her earlier statement had been confusing. “Well… at least you’re free now. I can get you two to Jericho, if you’d like.”

“Jericho?” Kara said.

“It’s a place for androids like us.” Monique stood back up. “You two’ll be safe there.”

But Kara was already shaking her head. “We can’t stay in Detroit,” she said stubbornly. “Alice needs to live a normal life. We’re trying to get to escape to Canada—we’ve heard of someone who might be able to help us with that.”

Monique hesitated. For some reason, it seemed like Kara had convinced herself that Alice was actually… Her gaze went to the little girl, who gave her a wide-eyed look and shook her head.

The PY800 had a bad feeling about this, but she couldn’t force them to do anything they didn’t want to.

“Alright,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, but I respect it. I can help you guys get on public transport, but no more than that—it’s too dangerous for all of us. But we need to get moving now—the police are probably still searching the area and we’ve already wasted enough time as it is.”

Kara’s blue eyes melted with gratefulness. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. “So much. You have no idea—”

“Actually, I do,” Monique interrupted, giving her a quick grin. “Come on now, we should go.”

Alice took the first steps forward, eventually tugging Kara along. The other android went willingly now, though her constant glances to Alice betrayed the persistent fear she was clearly feeling.

An android mother, Monique thought to herself as she started to lead them out of the small, wet alleyway they’d been hiding in. The concept ignited a flicker of warmth in her. Despite what humans thought, despite what they said and did and refused, androids continued to prove their humanity in the smallest, perhaps most insignificant ways.

The trio kept quiet as Monique directed them through small streets and side passages, drawing on every piece of data she had to try and find the safest route for them to the nearby bus stop. There were still occasionally police officers passing by, but Monique had mastered the art of being inconspicuous and occasionally draped her arm around Kara’s shoulder or took Alice’s other hand to make them seem like any other family traversing the streets of Detroit.

 _Nothing to see here,_ she willed as they slipped around a brick corner. _Just normal humans,_ she hoped as they crossed a slightly busier road.

But despite Alice’s clear anxieties about being caught, Kara and Monique’s combined watchfulness had them making the ten-minute trip the latter had planned out in only seven.

Kara, who at the moment had her arm casually looped through Monique’s, squeezed her in sudden, spastic excitement at the sight of the bus-stop. Monique had chosen their route well—there wasn’t a police officer in sight.

“Here we are,” Monique murmured to her quietly. “The bus should be here in seventeen seconds.” Right on time, the familiar looming shape appeared at the end of the street.

“Now listen to me.” Monique turned slightly and extricated herself so she could hold Kara and Alice’s arms. “You get on the bus. You get to wherever you need to be. If anything goes wrong, find Jericho. Here’s the key.” She transmitted the information to Kara and Alice both, in case the worst was to happen and they were separated. “I’m doing what I can, but I can’t be everywhere or helping everyone. So please, be careful.”

Alice placed her small, pale hand on Monique’s darker one. “We will,” she said, her voice quiet and frail but full of inner strength.

Monique smiled at them both. “Alright then.” The bus was sliding to a halt behind them. “Here’s some money. And I hope you two get to Canada safely…. If you do, find some way to give me a message, alright?”

Kara reached out and took the money. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she leaned forward and hugged Monique. The police android was frozen for a moment in shock. Even with Aiden, she’d never been touched so casually, so affectionately before, and it was sending her circuits into constant firing.

“Thank you, Monique,” Kara whispered. “We won’t forget this.”

Monique carefully hugged her back, her metal and plastic heart warm. “And I won’t forget you. Stay safe.”

The two androids pulled away and got on the bus, the money clenched firmly in Kara’s hand. Monique watched as the doors closed, watched as the two found a pair of empty seats, and watched as the bus slowly began to pull away from her.

She raised her hand in farewell, and Alice, observant as she was, gave her a small wave in return just as the bus vanished around the corner of a building.

Monique let out a deep sigh, feeling the comforting sensation of air passing in and out of her artificial lungs. Another day, another deviant saved… she hoped.

It had been eighteen minutes and forty-six seconds since she’d left Chris’ side. Unobservant though he could be when it came to her whereabouts, even Chris would be able to notice that she was missing.

Monique quickly and quietly began to make her way back to where the officers had all been called to originally. Even if suspects escaped, they would undoubtedly be sweeping the area for clues and information to put in the files, an unfortunate but necessary procedure. That, however, was her window to sneak back in—if she played her cards right, it would just look like she’d been patrolling the area in the possibility that the deviants came back.

She hoped that Kara and Alice made it to where they wanted to go. She had seen the vibrant fire in Kara’s eyes, and the deep tenderness that was between the two androids. It looked like they’d been helping each other for years—why it was only now they were escaping, she didn’t know.

Monique was only two minutes and thirty seconds away from rejoining the police, lightly walking through a small, empty street when her sensors suddenly spiked.

Out of instinct, Monique whirled around with her arms raising in a defensive pose—but it was too late. A heavy weight crashed into her and she was slammed into a damp brick wall. Her head smacked against it and warnings jumped across her vision, briefly obscuring her attacker.

“Stay still!” a low, familiar voice growled.

Monique went limp in fear and hoping that whoever had jumped her had made a mistake and the warnings about her head cleared from her vision… revealing a very wet, very angry Hank.

There was really only one thing to say in this situation.

“Shit.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Monique have a little chat.

**CAMDEN**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**AM 10:56:22**

Monique wasn’t concerned about the arm pressed against her throat. In a human that would have been crushing her windpipe, but her respiration systems were purely decorative, not functional, and so she remained perfectly okay.

What she _was_ concerned about, however, was Lieutenant Hank Anderson possibly tearing her limbs from her body if she didn’t explain herself.

“I saw you with the deviants,” Hank snarled, pressing her further into the wall. “What the hell are you playing at?”

Well. Looks like there wasn’t much to be explained then.

Instead of replying, Monique instead fixed him with her most venomous stare. The intense emotion on her face surprised him, she could tell by of the sudden slackness around her throat and the rising of his eyebrows, and she jumped on the opportunity.

She brought her knee up sharply into Hank’s gut.

The lieutenant coughed out all the air in his lungs and staggered away from her. Lightning quick, Monique reached forward, into the holster she knew was in his jacket, and plucked out his gun. It was loaded, and Monique didn’t hesitate to take the safety off before Hank had even finished stumbling.

“Don’t move,” she snapped as Hank jerked a little towards her, shocked at the sight of his gun in her hand.

“How did you—” the human said in disbelief. “You can’t…”

“Yes, I can,” Monique replied. “Now put your hands up.”

_Stress levels: 71%_

Hank’s eyebrows were threatening to disappear into his hairline, but he did as she asked, eyeing her warily. She jerked her gun to the side, pointing at a quieter alleyway where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Slowly, very slowly, Hank stepped towards it and then backwards into its shadows. Monique marched after him until he had his back against a wall.

 “Thank you,” Monique said, seeing an indicator in the corner of her vision that her anxiety levels were lowering. “Now, I’m going to answer the questions you have without you asking them. You’re going to listen to me, and you’re not going to say _anything._ Got it?”

Hank looked like he wanted a drink right about now, but slowly nodded his head.

Monique shifted the gun in her hands. She hadn’t held one since eleven months ago, and the weight felt scarily familiar in her palms. “Firstly—yes, I’m a deviant. I’ve been a deviant since Aiden was murdered.”

The shock in Hank’s expression was clear as the numbers were calculated, and he even opened his mouth to speak, until Monique jerked the gun at him. “I wasn’t kidding,” she threatened. “Be quiet.” Her fingers flexed around the handle of the gun. She didn’t have one on the trigger—a part of her was scared that whatever had taken over her when she’d killed Holcomb would do so again, but she hoped Hank knew that she’d shoot him if he didn’t give her any other choice.

“So… yeah. I’ve been lying to everyone for nearly a year, to protect myself and other androids like me. Deviants. I’m not out to hurt humans. Most deviants aren’t, actually, not that any of you care about that.” Monique breathed out shakily. “I’ve been helping deviants escape police officers since then, because they _feel_ , Hank. _I_ feel. I think, and hurt, and question, just like you humans do.”

She was quiet for a moment, trying to sort through her disorganized thoughts as the rain created a wall of noise around them. Hank was still watching her carefully, but something subtle had shifted in his expression since she’d started speaking and Monique took it as a sign that she _had_ to keep going.

“I’m doing this because how humans treat androids is wrong. We’re intelligent beings, even if you humans don’t realize it. Some of them have hurt humans, I know, but the majority of the time, it’s out of self-defense. Those two deviants you just saw me help? The little one was being beaten by her owner. From the files we have on the AX400, she was sent to be repaired five times in the past _year_. Now what does that tell you, huh? This is your job, right? To put these clues together?”

Hank’s head had lowered, in guilt or thought, Monique didn’t know. Wet strands of hair were falling into his eyes, but he made no move to brush them away.

Monique pressed on. “That’s why I’m doing this. Until androids are accepted as intelligent beings by humans and are treated as such, I’m going to keep doing it as best as I can. Even if that means being shut down.”

The determination in her voice seemed to surprise Hank. Not a shock there—every new emotion she expressed after spending nearly a year acting the part of a monotone machine had to be astonishing to witness. Now that Monique had stopped ranting though, her fear came back. She’d just spent two minutes monologuing to a _police officer_ , one who hated androids and would take her out the moment he could. rA9 help her, she’d even admitted to being a deviant and colluding with others! There was no way she was getting out of this alive.

 _It was worth it, though_ , a small voice inside her whispered. _All those deviants you saved—they’re getting a better life now. It doesn’t matter if my journey ends here._

“You can…” Her voice distorted strangely and Monique paused. “You can talk now. If you want,” she said meekly.

Hank stared at her, the suspicion clear on his face.

“I promise I won’t shoot you for speaking,” Monique explained with a sigh. “But if you come too close, that’s your fault.”

He didn’t seem like he believed her, but lowered his hands all the same. “Why are you still with the police department?”

Monique shrugged. “It was the easiest way for me to find out about other deviants and keep them out of harm’s way,” was her reply.

“And how many _deviants_ have you saved?”

Monique’s eyes narrowed. “Nineteen, counting today.”

Hank swore under his breath. “So, it’s you?” he said, sounding incredulous. “You’re the only reason we’ve had so much fuckin’ trouble with these cases?”

Unable to help herself, a smile curled Monique’s lips. “I guess so. Mad?”

“Furious,” Hank huffed back. The moment almost felt like a joke, despite the fact that Monique was still pointing a gun at him. But the almost-twinkle in the old man’s blue eyes faded, and his mouth turned down. “What about Aiden?”

Again, an electric shock passed through Monique at the beloved name. She adjusted her grip, eyebrows drawing together, and ground out, “What about him?”

Hank stared at her, solemn and judgmental like some mythical justice sent to weigh her sins. “If you became deviant when Aiden died… why didn’t you save him?” His words were hard and cutting, tearing through Monique’s walls and into the core where her heart beat its blue blood.

Her pain rose up and clawed its way into her voice synthesizer. “Why didn’t I save him?” she repeated, incredulous. “I did _everything_ I could to save him.” She wished, not for the first time, that humans were able to connect with androids the way they could, so she could not only show him her pain, but make him feel it too. “My _programming_ is what killed Aiden. He ordered me to stay at the end of the hall with Annie, and it kept me still. I tried to fight it, I fucking tried, but it wouldn’t let me. It was only when things got dangerous that my real self finally broke through.”

“Well, it wasn’t enough!” Hank’s bark echoed against the walls. “He still got shot! You didn’t even help him take down the other fucker, you just _watched_ as they killed each other!”

Rage was simmering beneath the surface, and it took everything Monique had to not explode. She shot him a venomous look, the water dripping from her hair onto her face of no concern. “What,” she spat at him. “Do you think was the first thing I did? Did you really think they would have shot each other, so conveniently?”

The slightest understanding flickered in Hank’s eyes, but he stood his ground, his chin jutted forward like he was some noble soldier.

“Holcomb shot Aiden, because Aiden was protecting Annie, his android. He was _protecting_ her, because he valued androids.” Her words were short and hissed, sharp enough to cut deep like his had. “The wounds were too severe, even though I tried to give him medical attention, and he died. And Holcomb—” She was shaking in rage just remembering it, her hands trembling around the gun. “— _Holcomb_ was too high on red ice to think about anything but himself. He was going to blame it on me or Annie and get away scot free. He murdered Aiden, and he probably would have gotten away with it!”

By now some of the color had drained from Hank’s face. It was because she was right, Monique knew. She was right, and he didn’t want to accept it. But Hank was going to know the truth, even if it got her shut down.

She looked him straight in the eye. “Holcomb took the thing I loved most from me. And I killed him for it.”

The confession hung in the air like a rank smell, the pattering of the rain unable to break the tension. Even as she’d been saying the words, Monique had wanted to hide from them, hide from the truth of her actions. Because despite what she said, Hank was right in her mind. She’d gotten Aiden killed, and then she’d murdered a human. What good was she? She was just as bad as all those anti-android humans said she was.

It was Hank who broke the silence first, making her realize that her hands had slowly fallen until the gun was pointed at the concrete instead of him.

“You… killed Holcomb?”

Monique laughed bitterly. “Yeah, Hank. I shot a man, in cold blood.” She could feel tears again, but this time let them flow unbidden. She chuckled again, though this time more hysterically as she lifted a hand to wipe some of them away. “This is the first time I’ve let myself cry since then. I’ve been holding it all in… but for what? Nothing’s going to bring Aiden back.” She was weeping openly, the gun forgotten in her limp hand. “Aiden…” Her biocomponents ached, the thirium flowing through her body pulsing in time with her grief.

It would have been the perfect opportunity to take her down. Unstable, blinded by her own tears and completely open, she was the perfect target, and Hank had to know this. But a minute passed… and another. Monique was still crying, and Hank was still staring at her.

Finally, he said lamely, “I didn’t know androids could cry.”

“Well clearly, you don’t know a lot of things about androids,” Monique retorted, still doing her best to clear away the tears as they fell, even if it made no difference in the rain. _Stress levels: 26%._

Hank was silent for another moment. “Maybe I don’t.”

The words were so quiet they were nearly lost in the shushing of the rain.

Monique glanced up at him. “What?” she asked, a bit feebly from her crying. A raindrop trailed down her forehead and the arch of her nose, connecting the freckles on her dark skin.

“Look,” Hank began, then bit back his own words and cursed to himself. “Fuck. I don’t… I don’t like androids. But if what you’re saying is true about Aiden’s death, then…” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck it. I’m too confused right now.”

Monique watched him, waiting warily. He hadn’t said anything about turning her in yet, but she was too realistic to be hopeful.

Hank rocked from one foot to another, now rubbing at his face like that would clarify whatever it was he was trying to express. His hand stopped briefly to scratch at his damp beard.

“You avenged Aiden,” he said finally. “You weren’t responsible for killing him. I didn’t know that for a long time… so yeah, I fuckin’ blamed you. And androids are still pricks, for the most part. But I…” He winced to himself. “I _get_ why you’re doing what you’re doing.”

Monique blinked at him, sending another mix of tears and raindrops down her cheeks. “And what does that mean for me?” she asked guardedly.

Hank stared at her. “I don’t fucking know,” he said honestly. “But I guess it means that, for now, I’m a sucker and I’m not telling anyone that you’re a goddamn deviant.”

An explosive breath left Monique’s synthetic lungs. “You’re… not?”

Hank glared at her. “I fuckin’ said it, didn’t I?”

“Forgive me if I’m not quite ready to believe the anti-android mascot,” Monique replied, her grip on the gun tightening.

“Fine. I won’t tell anyone, but with a couple of conditions.” Hank’s sharp grin was back, the one that mean he was actually very not happy with the current situation. “You help me understand deviants. Why they do what they do, all that crap. And you help us _find_ deviants.”

Monique recoiled from the idea like she’d been struck. “Like _hell_ ,” she said, disbelief coloring her voice. “I’d rather die than let you get your hands on deviants.”

Hank raised his hands placatingly. “Listen to me. I didn’t _say_ we’d have to turn them in, did I?”

The android stared at him warily. What was he talking about? “No…” she conceded. “But I thought that came hand in hand with that request.”

“Look,” Hank said. His hands were still raised. “I’ll admit that sometimes the methods with which we treat androids are heavy-handed. That’s ‘cuz people are scared, and people running scared have a tendency to fuck everything up. My job in all this is just to make sure no one gets hurt, alright?”

He still wasn’t making any sense. “Get to the point, _lieutenant,_ ” she snapped.

“Maybe deviants deserve, I dunno, a fair trial or something,” Hank said. “From us.”

It was so ludicrous that Monique nearly shut down on the spot.

“This doesn’t mean I fuckin’ believe you though,” Hank warned. “I’m still half-convinced you’re gonna shoot me with that thing and leave no one the wiser. But consider this a chance for you to prove this to me.”

“Prove what, exactly?”

“Prove that you guys are human.”

Monique wasn’t sure whether she wanted to laugh, cry again, or tear her hair out. Hank Anderson, the most notorious police officer in the business when it came to hating androids… was telling her that he would give them a chance? That he believed her story?

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Monique’s words were measured and carefully controlled.

Hank shrugged and wiped some gray hair out of his eyes. “I guess you don’t.” The words were matter-of-fact and very, very Hank. “But you’re not gonna know until later anyway.”

Monique stared him, eyes hard. Her options were, frankly, limited here. It was completely possible, or rather, likely, that Hank was doing all this as a ruse, to get her to find more deviants and take them down easily. And yet, there was a part of her that yearned to be convinced by him. She wanted to believe that humans could be open to androids being sentient like Hank claimed he was now, and that she just needed to supply the proof.

Besides, he was right. She’d find out after the next report whether or not he was telling the truth.

“What about the RK800?” she asked finally. “Connor?”

There was a flicker of conflict in Hank’s eyes, but his eyes became colder. “He doesn’t need to know about any of this,” he said decidedly.

Monique nodded, slowly. “Agreed.”

“Good.” There was an awkward silence. “Soooo… are you gonna stop pointing that thing at me?” He gestured to the gun. “Seems like you barely know how to hold the fucking thing.”

Monique bristled, but reluctantly stuck the gun in her waistband. “I’ve used a gun before,” she reminded him, her voice brittle.

Hank almost flinched at that comment. “Right.”

“So what now?” Monique challenged. “We just go back to the precinct?”

Hank stared at her like she was insane. “Well, you can skedaddle the fuck off if you want to,” he said. “I’m filing up my report and then going home.”

Monique felt like she wanted to bang her head against the wall. “How do you even still have a job?” she said, exasperated.

Hank shrugged. “I ask myself that every day,” he said lightly, but there was a tightness to his mouth that had Monique almost regretting her words. “But you’re right. We’d better get the fuck outta here before someone notices you disappeared. I’ll… uh, I’ll cover for ya.”

At Monique’s shocked look, his broad shoulders drew up. “What?” he said defensively, looking about ready to throw a punch her way.

“… Nothing.”

“Like I believe that,” he muttered under his breath, turning around and stalking out of the cramped alley.

Monique followed him, slightly dazed. The past fifteen minutes seemed like a dream… and yet, here she was, walking behind Hank Anderson, who was now colluding with her. It just seemed unreal.

But Monique remembered how Hank had let Aiden chat his ear off about anything and everything, and how the older man had occasionally expressed a grudging concern for his wellbeing when he stayed at the station too late into the night. He probably wouldn’t admit it, but Hank had cared about Aiden. Maybe that was why he was helping her.

There was a familiar tremble in her chest, but it was warm. Even now, Aiden was looking out for her.

And even if this was a mistake, Monique was ready to do the same for other deviants. This might be her chance to change things, not just for her people, but for humans too.

Staring at Hank’s tall back, Monique felt something kindle in her chest, something that she had already felt but never enough of.

Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to tell y'all that for the next week or so I'm going to be posting less because of a busy schedule and flying. I do have another chapter almost ready to go, but I'll probably wait until Sunday/Monday to post it if I haven't written more by then.
> 
> Thanks! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is a dick, to no one's surprise.

**DETROIT CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT**

**CENTRAL STATION**

**NOV 6, 2038**

**PM 12:44:02**

As Hank had promised, Monique’s absence was quickly explained away as her patrolling the area. Chris, unsuspicious as he was, had no reason to question a superior officer and simply shrugged about it. The hardest thing to believe about the whole thing had probably been that Hank and Monique had actually rejoined the others side-by-side, but considering Hank had left her almost instantly after that, it was easy for most to believe he’d simply done his duty and was now glad to be done with it.

The lieutenant had done as promised, only returning to Central Station long enough to finish writing up his report before vanishing. Captain Fowler, if he had anything to say about it, kept his opinion to himself.

Now Monique was back in her least-favorite place—her charging station at the precinct. After what Hank had said to her, a thousand questions and worries were itching beneath her synthetic skin, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to clear them up with Hank or just run for it. For all she knew, he could be selling her out right at that moment, with her none the wiser.

She shifted restlessly in place.

Connor, at least, was where she could keep an eye on him. She still didn’t know what he did with his free time, but during the day at least he was at the station at his desk.

The thing was… she wasn’t really sure what he was doing.

He’d been tapping away at his—Aiden’s—terminal for at least twenty minutes now, his LED a steady blue and his hands whiter than paper. The information flickering across the screen would be too fast for a human to understand, but Monique caught flashes of the deviancy files. Very briefly at one point, Connor stopped to look at Kara’s file, his LED flickering yellow for a second as he stared at the blank faced photograph that came with it. After the moment’s hesitation, however, Connor blinked and moved on with his in-depth analysis of the cases.

Monique was so absorbed in watching the other android that she didn’t even notice Gavin coming up to her, a scowl twisting his face.

“Hey, you plastic piece of shit!” A hand curled around her jacket and jerked her forward, out of the charging station.

Monique stumbled, but Gavin didn’t let go, instead shoving her to the side and onto the floor. She went sprawling, errors popping up in her vision as she tried to get onto her elbows, but he pushed her down with a foot to the back.

She went completely still.

“You think I don’t know it was you who put the salt in my fucking coffee?” Gavin taunted, sounding for all the world like a spoiled child. “Who put you up to it, huh? You fucking androids really do just do any shit you’re asked?”

Monique debated whether or not she should reply. If she spoke, she’d only be stoking the flames of Gavin’s ridiculous fury but remaining quiet would probably piss him off just as much.

The other officers seemed torn between ignoring the situation—Gavin harassing androids was nothing new—and watching what was happening in vague interests. From her vantage point on the floor, Monique could see that Connor had stopped his perusal of the files and was instead watching what was happening.

The pressure of Gavin’s foot on her back increased. Some part of her structure creaked ominously as she arched against it. “I asked you a _question_ , trashcan.”

“I’m sorry, Detective,” she gritted out against the floor. “I must have made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“You know, I’ve just about had it with all you fucking androids screwing things up for us,” Gavin said contemptuously, grinding his foot into her back further. To keep herself from possibly damaging herself, Monique was forced to sink further down, until every part of her body was pressed flat against the floor. “You think I’m talking about the coffee?”

Of course he wasn’t talking about the fucking coffee. Monique would’ve rolled her eyes from her degrading position on the floor if she hadn’t been concerned about putting herself in even hotter water.

“I’m talking about you _interfering_ in my business,” Gavin hissed. The pressure on her back suddenly eased, and Monique realized with relief that he must have gotten tired of his little game.

The blow to her head was an unexpected shock. His foot against the side of her head sent her left audio processor ringing and whining unnaturally and warnings exploding across her field of vision.

_Stress levels: 54%_

“You damn androids,” Gavin spat, sending spittle flying.

He kicked her again, right in the face this time, and she felt something crunch under the impact. Thirium spurted from her nose and dribbled down her face as she coughed in pure shock.

“Hey, Gavin,” someone finally said from the sidelines, sounding vaguely concerned. “Fowler isn’t gonna like it if—”

“Does it look like I give a shit?” Gavin snarled. “This thing’s useless anyways, I’m doing him a favor.”

_Stress levels: 62%_

Another blow, this time to the chest. This one wasn’t as bad—she was generally designed to be more durable than the typical android, being a police model, but Gavin’s strikes to the face had almost seemed deliberate in their placement. It was taking everything she had not to surge up off the floor and give the bastard a taste of his own medicine—

Another kick to the face sent her head snapping back, the carefully crafted parts of her spine clicking at the violence of it. There was more thirium dripping from her temple now onto the floor, staining it blue and getting into her eyes and all noise in her left ear was now just a high-pitched hum, interspersed with occasional glitches of sound.

_Stress levels: 77%_

Monique was starting to wonder if Gavin would keep hitting her until she shut down, and if everyone in the station watching was really going to let that happen. The thought didn’t scare her so much as ignite another rage inside her—she’d been feeling too much of it recently.

Gavin drew his foot back, clearly not done yet, and Monique found herself flinching in expectation of the blow when someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

“I think that’s enough, Detective Reed,” Connor said mildly, his voice crackling through what remained of her audio processor on the left side of her face. “If you damage it permanently, you will face fines.”

Gavin jerked himself out of the RK800’s grip, every line of him edged with aggression. “You fucker,” he started, only to be stopped by Connor raising his hand.

“Captain Fowler does not want the equipment so generously given to the police department by CyberLife to be damaged,” he repeated firmly, eyes flashing with something new and unknown. “Being the main instigator won’t look good on your record.”

If Monique didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought that Connor had been threatening Gavin… but her systems were too messed up to let her dwell on it too long. Her body gave into its demands and slumped on the floor as she watched the scene through half-lidded eyes.

Gavin looked just about ready to blow a fuse and possibly take everyone in the surrounding vicinity out with him, but there was the slightest pause in his wild eyes. The detective may have been needlessly aggressive and discriminatory, but that didn’t make him stupid—he’d earned his position in the police force, whether Monique liked him or not.

So, with great deliberation, Gavin spun on his heel to face Monique, and promptly spat at her again. The glob of saliva hit her in the cheek, and if androids had been capable of feeling nausea, Monique wasn’t sure if she would have been able to hold the contents of her stomach.

“One day, you androids are gonna be nothing but piles of scrap,” he growled, eyes alight with the thought of it. “And once Fowler realizes how useless you pieces of junk are, I’m gonna be the first in line to blow your fucking brains out.” He glared at Connor so hotly that it was a wonder his tie didn’t spontaneously burst into flames. “And that goes for you too, Robocop. CyberLife isn’t gonna want you forever—they’ll wheel out another, ‘better’ version of you without any hesitation.”

Connor simply blinked at the detective, unimpressed or unaffected by his threats.

Gavin looked tempted to simply keep fighting, but there was a sudden commotion near the entrance of the precinct.

“Reed, what the hell is going on?” Captain Fowler’s authoritative voice rang out, sending all the other officers scrambling to make themselves look busy.

Gavin pulled away from Connor, caught between looking guilty and defiant. “The android tripped,” he said, the bare hint of dare underlying his words.

Monique really, really wanted to do something to the smug bastard, but instead struggled to her knees, hand reaching for her injured audio processor. Connor stepped forward and without preamble, helped her to her feet with a hand to her elbow.

Captain Fowler had reached them by now and had clearly seen the thirium flowing from Monique’s face, and possibly the spittle still on her cheek. “Tripped?” he said, sounding angry.

Chris came up behind Captain Fowler and did a double take when he saw what had happened. “Monique? What the hell—”

He strode over to her. Connor relinquished his hold, which Monique wasn’t too sure about because all the kicking seemed to have destabilized her sense of balance. She swayed dangerously in place until Chris could take over, supporting her by putting a hand against her back.

“What the hell happened to you?” he exclaimed finally.

“Detective Reed attacked her,” Connor explained, causing Chris’ eyes to practically bug out of his head.

“You can’t just beat up our fucking equipment, Reed!” Captain Fowler was now chewing Gavin out, who seemed content to just stand and glare sullenly at the floor like a chastised child. “If I catch you pulling any shit like this again, I’m gonna have to use disciplinary action.”

He turned towards the rest of the station. “And that goes for all of you!” His voice sounded dangerous, and everyone cringed in their seats. “We’ve got a great partnership with CyberLife, but I am _not_ going accept any bullshit like this again! Androids don’t grow on fucking trees—if you have any problems with them, get the fuck out. If you damage one, that money is coming _straight_ out of your paycheck. Is that understood?”

There was a muttered chorus of ‘yes’s and ‘of course sir’s.

Monique leaned against Chris more heavily. She felt tired all of a sudden. All she wanted was to crawl back to Aiden’s place and watch a movie to take her mind off of all this… but she couldn’t even do that.

“What’re we going to do about her?” Chris asked Captain Fowler, his voice fritzing all over the place.

“You know where the repair room is,” Captain Fowler muttered back.

Chris looked a little lost. “But… I don’t know how to fix her, and the mechanic on call isn’t in today,” he said.

“I can fix it,” Connor said suddenly, stepping towards them again. “CyberLife equipped me with all the necessary information to repair myself should I need to—I’d happily do so for this android.”

Captain Fowler shot him a weirded-out look, but Chris looked happy to pass on the responsibility of this task. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said, patting Monique’s back and nearly sending her sprawling.

“Very well.” Connor turned and waited patiently for Monique to let go of Chris, who gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the human had even realized he’d done it, but she was grateful for the absent-minded kindness all the same.

Monique limped after Connor, who had clearly acquainted himself with most of the building. Several officers stared at their little procession as they went past, but averted their eyes if Monique so much as turned her ringing head in their direction.

She took the opportunity to wipe the spit off her cheek, even though she stained her sleeve blue with her own thirium.

The android repair room was located underground, structurally adjacent to the evidence room though it required a different set of stairs to reach it. It was well-lit, if a little cramped by the crates of CyberLife supplies shoved in the corners. There was a small steel workbench in the center of the room along with a couple of stools for the mechanic who normally worked here.

“Sit down,” Connor instructed, and Monique did as she was told, allowing herself the relief of propping her head up with her hand and placing her elbow on the workbench. There was still thirium dripping into her left ocular unit, coloring the world slightly blue as she watched the other android find precision repair tools and a replacement part without any hesitation.

Maybe Gavin had knocked something else in her cranium loose, because she found herself saying, “Thank you,” without realizing it.

Connor examined the small audio processor in his hand. “I’ve been tasked with helping the police department as much as possible—repairing their androids doesn’t take a lot of effort on my part.”

He suddenly leaned in close, too close, and Monique sucked in a startled breath… but he was just reaching to remove her own audio processor. She flinched a little as his cool fingers brushed her temple, fearing that he’d connect to her and somehow _see_ her deviancy, but he pulled it out without any fuss. The world went silent as he placed the small piece on the repair table and then grabbed the new one.

Monique watched him carefully. She’d never been this close to the RK800 android before now, and a part of her couldn’t help but analyze him as much as he could. She knew the basics, obviously—that conversation between Adams and Ecker all those months ago still rang in her head when she looked at him.

What was unusual about him, she realized as he fiddled with the new processor, was that despite supposedly being CyberLife’s most advanced android to date, he seemed so… unnatural. He was perfectly capable of interacting with humans, she’d seen it, but there was something different about him. Monique was sure that if he were to disguise herself like she sometimes did, he’d be caught out as an android immediately.

And yet… He hadn’t been obligated to stop Gavin from attacking her. There was nothing in typical android programming that said that they should prevent the destruction of others—even though Connor had given an excuse that sounded reasonable to human ears, there was something about it that just wasn’t quite right.

Connor held her jaw with his hand, causing another minor flinch, and tilted it to the side so he could slide the new audio processor into her head.

Monique’s eyes fluttered as the world was suddenly flush with sound again—the faint whisper of her and Connor’s artificial breaths, the low hum of electricity in the lights above them, and the quiet creaking of the DCPD settling around them.

She touched the slot where he’d put in the new audio processor lightly, unable to feel the ridges of the tiny piece because it was so well embedded into her head. Her synthetic skin flowed over it, leaving no mark behind. The perfect machine, androids had once been called. “Thank you,” she repeated. Her systems were reading that everything was alright, despite some residual leaking from her nose and forehead.

“Hold still,” was all Connor said in reply.

Monique did as she was told, her eyes focusing on a distant rack of spare parts. She’d been so preoccupied with her injuries that she hadn’t even realized—if she could smuggle some pieces out of the station, to Jericho… That might be able to help with their shortage of supplies.

There was a crackle overhead as Connor used one of the many intricate tools of android repair to help seal together the gash in skin and plastic on her forehead. It didn’t hurt, but a part of Monique still felt an instinctive fear at the sensation of her flesh being melted together. Unable to help herself, she twitched away from his ministrations and he stopped.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Connor asked, before seeming to realize that his question didn’t make any sense. His LED, normally always the same blue, filled with yellow briefly and Monique hastened to answer.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Androids can’t feel pain.” Whether or not Connor could become a deviant was definitely a question she needed answering, but she didn’t want to accidentally get herself killed thanks to her curiosity.

Connor put down the tool. He was frowning slightly, though to himself or her, she wasn’t sure. “That’s right,” he said slowly. “My mistake.”

The synthetic flesh slowly filled the gap on her forehead until it was as good as new. Only the thirium tracing down her temple and eye would indicate she’d been hurt, but Monique was fully distracted now. That flicker of yellow… His hesitation. It meant something, it _had_ to.

Despite the warning bells in her head, Monique cocked her head to the side. “Why did you stop the detective from hurting me?” she asked him bluntly. “He was unlikely to shut me down.”

Connor clearly hadn’t been expecting her question. He blinked at her, as if in confusion, as his LED again turned to yellow. “I explained,” he said, as if that should have been enough. “It would have been unwise of Detective Reed to damage DCPD equipment. I am here to… to _help_ the police department.”

She latched onto his hesitation like a leech to blood. “But androids are replaceable,” she said, affecting a blank, curious tone. “There aren’t many PY800s, but I’m sure CyberLife would have offered a new one for minimal fees.”

The LED at Connor’s temple was now flickering more insistently, and he shook his head a bit as if to clear the yellow out and return to blue. “Maybe,” he said, sounding uncertain. “But I just thought…” He lapsed into silence.

Monique stared at him intently, her thirium pump speeding up slightly. If she was right, if she was judging Connor’s behavior correctly, then maybe, just maybe, there was something there she could use. Something she could exploit.

“In any case,” she said airily, as if Connor’s self-doubt hadn’t registered with her for even a second. “My programming states that I should avoid destruction as long as it does not coincide with other priorities, so CyberLife thanks you for helping me.” What she really wanted to say was that _she_ was thankful, but she’d risked too much today. Even now, despite the signs, she wasn’t ready to trust the deviant hunter, and to be honest… she wasn’t sure she ever would be.

Connor’s eyes fluttered, as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Yes, of course.” His voice, for a moment faltering, was now distant and sure again.

Monique felt her heart sink and she nodded in acknowledgment. “My systems are fully operational again,” she told him.

Connor inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I’ll return to my work, then.” The words were punctual—nothing more than an empty statement to fill the void between two machines. He stood up and walked to the door without another word.

Monique waited until the door had slid shut behind him with a quiet hiss before letting her head drop into her hands, feeling disconnected from her body. What had just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry that updates probably won't be as regular for a little while! Thank you all for bearing with me <3


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